


Useful To You

by Scarlet_Ibis



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, F/M, Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-06-04 15:02:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 44
Words: 55,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6663427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlet_Ibis/pseuds/Scarlet_Ibis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lives collide from circumstance, tragedy and change.  What happens when Rick and Michonne find each other?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

_**Prologue** _

_**...** _

Michonne drove down the quiet streets of Stoney Creek, a small smile on her face as she sang along with the Delphonics, playing softly on the radio.  Keeping her left hand on the steering wheel, she used her right to pick up her cell.

“Hey, Mags,” she said.  “Are you and Glenn still coming out tonight?”

_“Definitely.  Glenn got a little held up at the restaurant, but we’ll be there.  Need us to bring anything?”_

“Just yourselves, and that adorable, little girl. Andre misses her.”

_“She misses him, too.  See ya soon.”_

Michonne’s smile widened as she hung up the phone, turning the corner.  It quickly morphed into a frown, however, when she saw all of the flashing lights on her block.  Michonne pulled closer until she got up to a haphazardly parked Sheriff’s car, blocking the street.  It took her a moment, but she realized they were in front of her house.  She threw her car in park, and hopped out, leaving the car door ajar.  She ran onto the sidewalk, and was immediately blocked by an officer.

“I’m sorry, ma’am.  You can’t go over there,” he said.

“But it’s my house,” she said calmly.  “I live here.  What’s happened?”

“Ma’am…”

Everything froze once Michonne saw the stretcher with the black body bag on top, a small, huddled mass underneath the plastic.  She veered back, as if slapped, her mind not processing the scene before her.

“Andre?” she whispered.

With a strength she didn’t know she possessed, she shoved the officer out of her way so forcibly that he fell backwards to the lawn.  Michonne didn’t stay long enough to see, as she was running, full speed, to that gurney.

_‘It can’t be…it can’t.  No, no, no, no..’_

She was several feet away when an arm shot out, hooking her around the waist, knocking the wind out of her.  

“Ma’am, you don’t wanna do that,” he whispered, holding her to him.  Michonne struggled in his grasp, but he wouldn’t let go.

“What’s happening?” she panted.  “What _happened_!”

That’s when she saw two more officers escorting Mike out of the house.  His head was down, hands cuffed behind his back.  Michonne felt ill.

“Are you Ms. Logan?” he asked her.  His voice was quiet; gentle.  “Hey…Are you Michonne Logan?”

Michonne’s mouth was dry; her head was throbbing; her heart felt as if it might explode out of her chest.  She gripped the man’s–the Sheriff’s–coat and badge in her fists as she yelled, “Mike!”  She was still trapped in the Sheriff’s steel-band arms–a hindrance and a comfort.  “Where’s Andre?  Where is my _son_?”

Mike looked up at her, tears streaming down his face.  

“I’m so sorry, Ms. Logan.  I’m sorry to tell you that–”

Michonne cut him off with a deafening wail, collapsing.  The Sheriff sank down to the ground with her, stilling holding on, mouth at her ear, whispering a litany of condolences.


	2. Why

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick and Michonne have a talk about what happened to Andre.

Rick stared at her through the window.  She was sitting in front of his desk, head bowed, dreaded locks cascading over his brown Sheriff’s coat.  He had put it on her before escorting her to the police station, in an attempt to comfort her.  Honestly, Rick was unsure what to do.

“You’re not arresting her for assaulting an officer are ya?”

Rick turned at Shane’s voice.  He was partially grinning, so Rick could tell that his friend was half serious.

“Uh, no.  Jesus, have some compassion, Shane.”

“Oh, I do.  Just a bit bruised, is all.”

Rick scoffed.  “More like your ego.  Even though everyone saw her take you down with little effort, don’t worry.  We won’t hold it against you.  Much,” Rick said, pouring a cup of coffee.

“Yeah, yuck it up, why don’t ya,” Shane said, leaning against the wall, observing Rick who was now observing her.  “Is it getting to you?”

“Seeing that little kid like that...if anything ever happened to Carl...”  Rick shook his head, adding two sugars and two creams to the steaming cup.

“Well, that brings me to some good...well not good, but it’s not as awful as we thought.”

“What?” Rick said, peering at him.

“The forensics team is pretty sure it was an accident.  Looks like the kid slipped in the tub, hit his head on the faucet, and drowned while his daddy was on the phone.  Phone records show he was talking to a Terry Smith for approximately two minutes and thirty-seven seconds.”  Shane handed Rick some paperwork. 

Rick looked it over, nodding.  “Well, I guess I’ll take this in and share it.  They released the father?”

“They’re still holding him, but he’ll probably be released by morning.”

“Good.  I’m thinking accident or no, she won’t take kindly to seeing him right now.”

“Yeah,” Shane said, patting his shoulder.  “Good luck in there.”

Rick grabbed the coffee and headed back into his office, closing the door behind him.  As he approached her, he saw she was holding the picture from his desk.

“Is this your son?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah,” he responded, putting the cup down in front of her before taking his desk chair.  “Carl.  Fifth grade photo.”

“Family name?”  She kept her eyes on the photo as she spoke, not looking at him.

“His mother’s father’s name, yeah.”

“How old is he?”

“Eleven.  A bit small for his age, but he’ll grow into it.”

He watched her carefully.  She was smiling softly, but a few stray tears were rolling down her cheeks.

“Ms. Logan...Michonne.  I can’t imagine what you’re going through.  But you should know...”  Rick paused, taking a breath.  Michonne finally looked up at him, waiting.  “It was an accident.  Your son slipped in the tub...hit his head.”

Michonne’s face twisted at that.  She gripped Carl’s photo tightly, exhaled, then placed it back on his desk, facing her.

“Your husband--”

“He’s not...”  Michonne exhaled.  “He’s _not_  my husband.”

“Okay.  Mike--he was in the living room when it happened.”

Her gaze narrowed at that.  “He _left_  him?   _Alone_?”

Rick nodded.

Michonned braced both hands on this edge of his desk, attempting to control her breathing.  “This happened because...he left my baby alone in the tub.”

Rick leaned forward in his seat, staring at her.  “Yes.”

“What was he doing?”

“He was on the phone--”

“On the _phone_?”  Michonne shut her eyes.  She was beginning to hyperventilate.  

Rick rose quickly, going over to her, kneeling next to her, a gentle hand at her back.  “Steady now...do you need a paper bag, or...?”

Michonne shook her head, biting her lower lip.  “Our sitter...Beth.  She’s nineteen and even _she’d_  know better.  I could kill him.  I could _kill_  him.  Should’ve been him...”  She opened her eyes and looked at Rick.

“Where is he?” she asked quietly, though her voice was full of venom.

“He’s in lock up, but he’ll probably be released tomorrow morning."

“I can’t see him...He can’t come home.  Oh god.”  She doubled over in pain.  “I can’t go home...I can’t, I can’t, I can’t...”

“Is there someone I can call for you?”

Michonne’s brow furrowed.  “Maggie and Glenn will probably...they’ll wonder what happened.  But I can’t be around them now.  Not now,” she whispered.  She looked at Rick.  “My sister--Sasha.  I’ll call her.”

“Alright.”  Rick rose, then handed her the phone.  “Listen...if you need anything--”  Rick took a business card from his desk and a pen, wrote on it and handed it to her.  “You can call, anytime.  And I’ll be there.”  She looked at him, and he nodded, earnest.  “I’ll give you a minute.”

As Rick put his hand on the doorknob, her voice stopped him from opening the door.  “Why?”

Rick dropped his head, not looking back at her.  “Because...I saw your son.  You shouldn’t have to be alone,” he murmured.  Before she could respond, he opened the door, closing it gently behind him.


	3. Don't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Searching for respite whne there is none to be found...

Tonight’s chapter was brought to you by **[Kaleo’s “Way Down We Go”](https://youtu.be/Rg_Eel8atHg?list=PLAVn22ARZmhClEh-TEVjXuVNtHqRrWFXk)  and [U2′s “The Troubles.”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bSitgi-f34k)**

     Rick paced up and down the hallway, a fury building inside of him.  He couldn’t shake the image from his head--seeing that little boy--Andre--frozen in death, a huge, gaping gash on his forehead, eyes fixed...  
     “Rick?  Hey man, you okay?  Rick!”  
     Rick brushed past Shane, heading to the tombs, jaw set, hand clenched around the butt of his gun.  He took long strides until he stood in front of Mike’s cell.  He was sitting on the metal bench, head in his hands.  
     “Hey,” Rick called out.  Mike lifted his tear-stained face, staring at Rick silently.  “You’re getting out tomorrow.  If it’s your plan to go home, or contact Ms. Logan...don’t.”  
     Mike’s brow furrowed.  “What do you mean, don’t go home?”  
     “You don’t have one anymore.  You wrecked that, didn’t you?”  Rick’s head throbbed, making him blink.  “Keep your distance.  I don’t know what she’ll do, and I’m guessing you don’t wanna find out.”  
    “It was an acc--”  
     “Bull _shit_ ,” Rick said, head cocked to the side.  “Why they aren’t charging you with depraved indifference, I’ll never know.”  Rick turned, walking away.  
     “How is she?” Mike called out.  
     “How do you think?”  Rick continued to walk away. 

* * *

 

    “Michonne?  Are you okay?” her nephew, Noah, asked her from beside her. They were riding in the backseat of her sister’s car.  Noah could have sat in the front, but thought it best to sit next to his aunt.      
     “Leave her alone, Noah,” Sasha chastised.  
     Michonne shook her head, though she stared out of the window.  “It’s okay.”  
     “Where’d you get the jacket from?” he asked.  
     Michonne looked down at the brown jacket, then fiddled with the zipper.  “Sheriff let me borrow it.  I meant to give it back to him.”  
     “I’m sure he’ll survive a day without it.  We’re almost home now,” Sasha said.  
     “Home?” Michonne asked, listlessly.  
     “…our house,” Sasha clarified.  “Abraham’s picking up some of your things from…your house.”  
     “I can get my own things,” Michonne murmured.  
     “ _No_ ,” Sasha said, staring at her sister in the rear-view mirror.  “Not now.  Later.  We can go later.”  
     Michonne didn’t respond, opting to lean her head against the window.  When Noah reached for her hand, holding it, she gave a shuddering sigh, tearing up again.  Still, she held his back.     

* * *

 

     Rick sat out front of his house in the car, hand on the key at the ignition.  He shut his eyes tightly, trying to shake the images of the day, and failed.    
 _‘This is why people drink,’_ he thought.  Exhaling heavily, he pulled the key out, and sat back against the seat. He wasn’t ready to go in the house; not just yet.  Still, he opened the car door, stepping out.  The closer he got to his front door, the slower he moved.  
     Delaying the inevitable.    
     He opened his front door, and instantly heard Lori and Carl in the kitchen, talking over the sound of running water.  Rick walked down the hall and poked his head around the corner.  They were both at the sink—Lori washed while Carl rinsed and dried.  
     “Hey,” he said, announcing his presence.  
     Carl turned, his face lighting up. “Dad!  You’re home!”  Putting a plate down in the rack, he ran over to his father, hugging him tightly.  
     “You missed dinner,” Lori said, lips drawn together tightly.  Rick knew she was pissed.  
     “Sorry.  Work…work ran a little late.”  
     Lori gave a laugh that lacked any humor. “You know, sometimes I wonder if you even care about us at all.  You could have taken two minutes to call.”  
     Rick’s brow knit in confusion at that. “Carl…why don’t you go upstairs for a minute.”  
     “But you just got here,” he argued.  
     “Carl.  Just for a minute,” Rick said, eyes on Lori all the while.    
    Carl looked between both his parents, then hung his head, leaving the room.  
     “What the hell was that?” Rick hissed.  
     “I’d call it a legitimate question, except it was more of a statement,” Lori sniped.  
     “In front of Carl?  Really? Jesus, Lori….”  
     “I’m tired of waiting up for you.”  
     “It’s only nine-thirty!” Rick exclaimed, spreading is arms wide.  He shook his head.  “I can’t do this.  Not today. Not now.”  
     “Of course not,” Lori said, throwing down the dish rag.  She stepped closer to him, staring him down.  “It’s never a good time for Rick to talk, is it?”  
     Rick looked at her, his expression softening.  “After the day I had…no, it’s not.  I just wanna turn my brain off, okay?”  
     “No, it’s _not_ okay!  You don’t get to just check out when you feel like it.”  
     Rick nodded.  “I’m going to tuck Carl in, then go to bed.  If that’s alright with you,” he said sarcastically, turning on his heel.  
     “What about dinner?” Lori called to him.  
     “Not hungry,” Rick called back. He knew she wasn’t really worried about him eating, so much as wanting him to stick around so she could berate him more.  
     Rick didn’t have the strength.  He just didn’t.

* * *

 

      Michonne lay in the guest bedroom on top of the covers of the full-sized bed, staring up at the ceiling in the dark.  She still had on her clothes from earlier that day--plum lace tank top, linen pants, and the Sheriff’s coat.  She was tired, but couldn’t be bothered to change.  She felt hollowed out.  Dead.  Except she wasn’t...she was still there.  
     And she hated it.  
     She curled onto her side, trying to block out her own thoughts.  
      _“She can’t go back there.  Not until there’s been a cleaning crew,”_ she heard Abraham say.  He was trying to be quiet, but the walls seemed to be paper thin.   
     Michonne’s stomach lurched.  
      _“I want her to stay here.  At least for awhile,”_ Sasha replied.  
      _“We can’t make her...if she wants to go home, we have to accept it,”_ Abraham said.  
     Michonne pulled the jacket tighter around herself, feeling cold.  She didn’t want to go back...but she knew she had to.  It was her home; everything that reminded her of Andre was there.   _‘Tomorrow...tomorrow I’ll go back,’_ she decided.    
     Tomorrow she would return to the house she used to call, “home.”


	4. Effort

     “Dad…is everything okay?”  Carl was sitting in front of his TV, playing a video game.  Rick sat down next to him, and looked at the screen.  Carl pushed paused, sensing his father may have something to say.

     “Yeah.  Things are okay.  Just a rough day at work, is all.”

     “What happened?”

    Brow furrowed, Rick dropped his head.  He mussed Carl’s hair, then let his hand rest on his back.  “Someone died,” he said quietly.

     “Who?”

     “A little boy.  Wasn’t even four years old.”

     “That sounds awful.”

     “Yeah.”

     “You saw him?”

     Rick’s head jerked up at that.  As if remembering who he was talking to, he suddenly looked uncomfortable, then looked away altogether.  “I did, but…I don’t wanna talk about it.”

     Carl nodded.  “You sure you’re okay?”

     Rick gave Carl a small smile.  “Better.  After talking to you.” 

     Carl smiled back at his dad.

     Rick knew if there was a good thing he had ever done in his life, it was Carl.

\----

     Rick had lied—

     He _was_ hungry.

     Still avoiding Lori, Rick walked onto the back porch, out the door, and across the yard, heading to the coach house that used to be a garage.  He gave the door three, quick raps and waited.

     “Hey, man.  How was the day?”  Daryl flung the door open wide, letting Rick in.

     “Not good,” Rick said, plopping down on the weathered, leather couch. 

     “Want a beer?” Daryl asked, heading to the kitchenette of his glorified, man-cave of a house. 

     “Yeah,” Rick called out.  “And any food if you got it.”

     “Leftover pizza.”

     “Sausage and bacon?” Rick asked.

     “You know it.”  Daryl handed Rick a plate of lukewarm pizza and a cold bottle to go with it, plopping down on the couch next to him.

     “So you gonna tell me what the hell happened?”

     Rick ate an entire slice before responding.  “A father left his three year old alone in the tub.  Hit his head.  Drowned.  I think the mother’s screams may haunt me forever.”

     Daryl stared at him.  “Jesus.  You tell Lori?”

     Rick shook his head.  “She didn’t give me the chance.  And I don’t like talking to her about stuff like that.  It’s too ugly.”

     Daryl gave a skeptical grunt.  “That right?”

     Rick peered at him.  “What do you mean?”

     “You don’t wanna tell her, or she don’t wanna hear?”

     Rick blinked, then solemnly took another bite.  “She snipes at me when I walk through the door for one reason or another.  I should’ve called, I should’ve...”

     “Come on, man.  You weren’t on a carnival cruise.  What you do, the things you see…It ain’t easy.  After all these years, she should know that by now.”   Daryl picked up a pack of Newport’s, taking out a cigarette and lighting up.  “But then, I never pegged her as being perspective.  Not even back in high school.  Shows you right for marrying the first girl to give you some.”

     “Hey!  Come on, man.”  Rick shook his head, giving a self-deprecating laugh.

     Daryl shrugged.  “Just saying.  You two together was always like shoving a square peg into a circle.  Never understood it.  Still don’t.”

     “If things keep deteriorating the way they are…won’t be anything left to understand.  It’ll be over.”

     “May be for the best,” Daryl murmured.

     Rick gave a quick burst of air, something that could’ve been passed off for a laugh.  “Knew I could count on you to give to me straight.”

     Daryl exhaled some smoke rings.  “Well, someone’s gotta do it.”

\----

     Michonne showered and redressed as quickly and quietly as she could.  Everyone was still asleep, and she was hoping it’d stay that way.  She had a driving need to go back home.  Even though yesterday she didn’t think she could bear it, she had to go now.  She wanted to be in Andre’s room.  Smell his scent…

     With a shocking amount of stealth, she crept down the stairs, and grabbed Sasha’s car keys.  As soon as she opened the front door, she ran right into a wide awake Abraham.

     “You’re up early,” he commented, looming in the doorway.

     “Not up as early as you,” Michonne said dryly, gripping the car keys.

     Abraham sighed, stepping to the side.  Michonne looked shocked, but crossed the threshold anyway.  “You aren’t a prisoner here, Michonne.  Even though I know Sasha’s been acting like it.  She’s just…overprotective.  But you knew that.”

     Michonne nodded.  “Yeah.”

     “Look.  I get it.  You want to be close to him any way you can.  I figured as much, and straightened up a bit for you over there.”

     “Is that what you were doing up?”

     Abraham looked away, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.  “I can’t imagine what this is like.  If something happened to Noah…”  Abraham exhaled, then looked at her.  “It’s gonna be hard as a constipated shit, going back in that house, but it’s your right.  It’s where you raised your boy.”

     Michonne gave a watery smile.  “Thank you.”

     Abraham gave her a side arm hug.  “Hey, you’re my sister too, remember?”

\----

     Michonne took a deep breath and turned the knob.  The lights were out and the house was silent.  But it smelled like…Pine Sol.  Cleaning supplies.  Wiped down and freshly vacuumed.  Not that she had left her home in disarray; it just had a hotel clean feel to it.  Michonne held her breath as she walked past the bathroom—the door was closed—and headed to Andre’s room.  That door was also closed, and she found herself shaking as she opened it up.  It was bright—the curtain’s pulled back, letting in the morning light.  Andre loved the sun.  Michonne smiled through her tears as she saw his toys, and his race car bed.  Gently, she sat down on it, picked up his pillow and clutched it to her.  She tried not to sob as she inhaled the scent that lingered there, but couldn’t help herself.  She laid down with it, the sunlight caressing her skin, and fell into a fitful sleep.

\----

     Michonne woke up a couple of hours later, and wasn’t sure she could make herself leave this room.  Part of her still hoped that Andre would come bounding in, hopping on the bed.  She shuddered, feeling cold.  She pulled the brown jacket around her tighter, and remembered—Rick. 

     She reached into the coat pocket and pulled out his card…

\----

     Rick had fallen asleep on Daryl’s couch while watching TV, sitting upright.  The sound of his cell ringing woke him up.  He looked around, took in his surroundings, and swore to himself, “Shit…”   He looked over at Daryl, who was preparing to fry some eggs.  “Why didn’t you wake me up, man?”

    Daryl, back still to him said simply, “You needed the rest.”

     Rick pulled the phone out of his pocket quickly and saw that, it wasn’t Lori, as he had feared.  It was an unknown number.  Brow furrowed, he swiped the screen to answer it.  “Hello?”

     “Rick?”

     Rick stilled, listening.  “…Michonne?”

     “Are you…is this a bad time?”

     “No.  No, no,” he said, sitting up, alert.  “Hey.  How can I help?”

     She was silent for a moment, then said, “I went home.  I’m home.”  She breathed a shuttering sigh into the phone and whispered, “I don’t want to be alone.”

     Rick stood up.  “On my way.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far!**      

* * *

  
     “Hey man, where ya goin’?” Daryl asked.

     Rick paused, then said, “Work.”    
     Quickly, he crossed the lawn and entered the house through the back door.  The house was silent.  Rick looked at his watch and saw that it was a quarter to nine.  Lori had already taken Carl to school, and was probably still there performing PTA duties.    
     Right before he was about to leave the kitchen, Rick noticed a note on the fridge:

          _We need to talk when you get home.  
_  
     Rick groaned, rubbing his face.  He snatched the note down and quickly headed upstairs, brushing, showering and changing into casual attire--blue button down and jeans.  It only delayed him twelve minutes, and he was down the steps and out the door, sprinting to his car.  
     As he drove, he wondered what he would say to her.  He wanted to be there for her; truly.  But after giving it some thought, he knew that she needed more than just not being alone.  He wracked his brain, thinking, thinking...  
     He was five minutes away from her house when an idea came to him.  He knew _exactly_ how he could help her through this.    
     He just hoped she would agree to it.

. . . . . 

     Michonne sat up at the sound of the front door opening.  She wrinkled her brow, not recalling leaving it unlocked.  Still, she got up and out of the bed, heading into the hallway.  
     “Rick--”  
     She paused when she saw it was not Rick who had entered; it was Mike.  
     “Michonne...”  His eyes were sad, hands open and palms forward.  “I came as soon as I could.”  
     Michonne’s jaw tightened.  “Get...out,” she grit out.  
     “We have to...oh god...the funeral.  We have to plan...”  
     Michonne’s eyes widened at that; her blood rushed through her ears, and her skin felt hot.  In an instant, Mike’s eyes were large and round, full of fear, as he stared at her hand.  Michonne belatedly realized that at some point, she had grabbed a butcher’s knife from the kitchen.  “Get. _Out_ ,” she murmured, slowly advancing on him.  
     “Michonne...please.  You can’t imagine how sorry I am,” he pleaded.  
     Michonne put her fists to her temples, shaking her head, the knife still tightly clenched in her right hand, pointing outward.  “GET OUT!” Michonne yelled, running towards him.  
     “Shit!” Mike yelled, grabbing her at the wrists, trying to hold her back.  She forced all of her strength against him, centimeter by centimeter bringing her arm slowly downward.  “What are yo doing?!” Mike yelled.  
     Michonne kept her eyes on the blade all the while, teeth grit as she focused on making him just...stop.  “Get out,” she whispered.  
     “Hey!” she heard a voice yell.  And then there were familiar arms wrapped around her waist, strong and steady, pulling her back and away from Mike.  
     “I told you not to come here,” she heard him say.  Rick.  “Get out,” he said, voice grave.  
     “He doesn’t deserve to be here.  He doesn’t...”  Michonne shook her head, dropping the knife onto the cream colored carpet.  Rick’s presence had calmed her, making the fight drain out of here.  Leaning back against him, she looked at Mike.  “I don’t care if I ever see you again.  Don’t come back.”    
     Rick released her, placing a firm hand on her shoulder.  “Are you okay?” he asked.  
     Michonne shook her head.  “No.  Get him out of here.”  She turned her back on both men, going back to Andre’s room.

. . . . . 

     Rick turned narrowed eyes onto Mike.  “You.  Out.   _Now_.”

     Mike swallowed, looking away.  “I’m going to be at my son’s funeral,” he said.  
     Rick stared him down.  “Frankly, I don’t think anyone would want you there.  Why would they?  You’re responsible for this--all of this.  But I can’t stop you.”  Rick stared at him, coldly.  “Just keep in mind that next time?  I won’t stop her either.”  
     Mike looked up at Rick, nodded, then turned in left.  
     Rick exhaled, going to the door and locking it.  He paused there, resting his palm against the door frame, wondering what would have happened if he had arrived a few minutes later.  Drumming his fingers briefly, he pushed off of the frame, then headed in the direction Michonne had went in--Andre’s room.  He figured that even if he couldn’t get her to accept his help, that at least he was able to get Mike out and away.   
     Out.


	6. Okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick and Michonne go for a drive.

     “You okay?” he asked, lingering in the doorway.    
     Michonne was sitting on the edge of Andre’s bed, looking up at him.  “Not really, no.  Mike, he...”  She shook her head, looking away.  “He made me realize....I have a funeral to plan,” she finished softly.    
     Rick entered the room, dropping to one knee before her.  “You don’t have to do that,” he said, peering at her.  
     Michonne exhaled, looking at him sadly.  “Yeah...I do.”  Abruptly, she got up, going to the closet.  Rick got up in one fluid motion, turning to watch her.  After a bit of rifling, she pulled out a pale, blue suit.  “He just wore this at Easter.  He did the egg hunt and everything.  I was so surprised at how clean he kept it,” she murmured, running her fingers gently over the crisp lapels.  “Just some strawberry filling on the front from cake, but...I got it out.”    
     Rick didn’t have the heart to tell her it’d probably be a closed casket.  
      _‘Unless...’_  
     “Did he have any baseball caps?”  
     Michonne tilted her head at him.  “Sure.  Why?”  
     Rick walked over to her, closing the distance.  “A dark blue one would be nice.  With the suit, I mean.  I...”   He trailed off at the faraway look in her eyes.  
     “Oh,” she whispered, looking down with a furrowed brow.  “The gash.  Right.”  
     Rick nodded, looking away.  “Listen, uh...there’s someone I’d like you to see.  I think it could help.  Hell, couldn’t hurt.”  
     “Who?”  
     “She’s our resident  forensic psychiatrist and criminal profiler.  Well, not ours, but she has an office here and visits often.  Been with the department for the last couple of years.  She’s good--solid.  I think you should talk to her. I can take you.”  He looked her over, attempting to gauge her reaction.  “It’s no trouble at all,” he added, staring at her worriedly.  “Michonne, just...” he sighed.  “Just talk to her.  If you don’t like it, we can go.  That I promise.”  
     Michonne stared at him, and Rick felt as if she was staring into the core of his being.  Still, he didn’t break eye contact with her.  Finally, she nodded.  
     “Okay.”

* * *

     “Boy, you _really_  are a last-minute Larry, aren’t you?” Deanna stated, leaning back in her desk chair.

     “Come on, Deanna,” Rick said, hands at his waist, trying to feel the holster he didn’t wear, glancing behind him at the closed, office door as if he could see Michonne through it if he stared hard enough.  “It’s extreme circumstances.  Really messed up circumstances.”  
     “Aren’t they _all_  messed up circumstances?  You can make her an appointment like anyone else.  I have work I need to finish.”  
     Rick turned narrowed eyes on her.  “Her three year old son just died.”  He sighed, shifting on his feet, then walked closer to the desk, leaning on it, leveling his face with hers.  “I wanna help, but I don’t know how.”  
    Deanna leaned in as well, taking off her glasses to get a better look at him.  “You’re quite invested in this,” she said, observing him.  “Hmm.  When?”  
     “Yesterday.  Due to negligence...the father’s fault.  Accident, but still.”  
     Deanna leaned back.  “Yesterday?  And you’re only _now_  telling me?  Grimes, we have to work on that communication thing.  Send her in.”  
     Rick breathed a sigh of relief, nodding, turning to open the door.  “Michonne,” he called to her.  
     Just as Michonne crossed the threshold, Deanna said, “Rick?  Shut the door on your way out.”   
     Rick looked at Michonne, gave her a little nod, then closed the door softly behind him.  
     Deanna gave Michonne a sad smile.  “Michonne.  I’m sorry we have to meet under these circumstances.  Please, have a seat.”

* * *

 

     Rick stared at her quietly, holding the car door open.  “How’d it go?”  
     Michonne shrugged, eyes downcast.  “Okay, I guess.  She said something in Latin, but wouldn’t tell me what it meant.”  
     “She can be annoying that way,” Rick said with a grin, closing the door once Michonne was inside the car.  He got in, starting the ignition and asked, “Are you gonna go back?”  
     Michonne looked over at him, then nodded.  “Yeah.  Did you know she lost a son, too?”  
     Rick’s brow furrowed at that.  “No.  I didn’t.”  He pulled out of the parking lot, drumming his fingers on the wheel.  “Where to?”  
     “My house.  I’m going back to my sister’s, but, I want to get my car.  I can only be carted around for so long.”  
     “You like to drive?” he asked, glancing at her.  
     “Yeah.  There can be a freedom in it.”  
     Rick nodded in agreement.  
     The rest of the car ride was in a comfortable silence until Rick pulled up to a red light.  
     “Rick?”  
     He turned and looked at her.  
     “Thank you,” she said, touching his hand that rest on the steering wheel for just a moment.  She pulled back, leaning in her seat, staring out the window.  
     Before Rick could park in front of Michonne’s house, a woman who looked frantic and distressed ran up to the car.  
     “Oh, shit...” Michonne murmured to herself.  “That’s my sister.”  Michonne got out of the car and was immediately assaulted by Sasha, who grabbed her by the shoulders, then held her face.    
     “Where the hell have you been?”  Her voice was quiet, but far from calm.  
     “I’m okay.  I was with Rick--the Sheriff.”  
     Sasha glanced over Michonne’s shoulder, staring at Rick.  He nodded at her before looking away, marginally uncomfortable.  
     “I’ll take it from here,” she said to him.  “Thank you.”  
     “Sure.  Michonne...”  
     She turned, looking at him.  
     “If you need anything, just let me know.”  
     She nodded at him.  “I will.”    
     Michonne watched Rick get back in his car, driving off.  When he was out of sight, she turned to her sister and said, “I’ll go back with you.  But I’m taking my car, okay?  I’m sorry I left without saying anything I just...some things I gotta do on my own.”  
     Sasha looked her over.  “That’s fine.  Just not _everything_  alone.  Got it?”  She pulled Michonne to her, embracing her tightly.  “Let us help.”  
     Michonne closed her eyes, hugging her sister back, nodding on her shoulder.  “Okay.”


	7. Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How do you bring the pieces together?

_"Nice ensemble."_

Deanna watched Michonne on the playback look down at the Sheriff's coat she still wore.

_"Nice coat. Are you cold?" Deanna asked.  
_

_"No. A little," Michonne amended. "But I don't think I'm here to discuss fashion."  
_

_"I'd hardly call that coat fashionable, but yes, far from that, the reason why you're here. Why Rick brought you here. We're here to discuss you, how you feel, and how you're fairing."_

Deanna fast forward a bit.

_"I don't know how I'm going to move forward. I don't know if I can," Michonne whispered, eyes downcast._

Deanna pushed pause, sat back in her chair and propped her feet up. She knew this would be a long, difficult road. She was glad Rick had brought Michonne in when he did. "Maybe Larry not-so-late," she mused with a glimmer of a smile. "Maybe…"

. . . . .

"You're finally home."

Rick slowly closed the door to his home with a heavy sigh. He hadn't expected her to be home yet. He turned to face her properly.

"Yeah…you wanted to talk?"

Lori looked everywhere but at him. "I feel just a bit past that."

"What do you mean?" he asked, head cocked to the side, but not moving any closer. He just watched her.

It took a moment, but she finally lifted her eyes to his. "Rick…I think we should…take a break."

Rick's eyes squint as he attempted to process that. "You _what_?"

Lori threw her hands up. "No, you know what? We should get a divorce."

Rick narrowed his eyes at her, shaking his head in disbelief. "What are you saying right now?"

"This isn't working. In case you haven't noticed. Not for me, and certainly not for Carl."

"Carl?"

"He needs someone who will be present. You aren't it," she said coldly.

"Is this because of how much I work?" Rick asked, his tone indignant.

"It isn't just work, Rick. You weren't working last night, were you? Drinking with Daryl."

"I wasn't…he's my best friend. We hang out. There's nothing wrong with that. And hell, I was still on the property, Lori!"

"You use Daryl as an escape. I can't even believe I agreed to let him live here!

"But you did. And Daryl pulls his weight, with ease. We wouldn't have been able to afford this place without his rent."

"And who's fault is that?"

Rick shook his head, marveling at what she was saying. "Wow. Okay."

"And there _is_ something wrong when I tell you we need to talk, and you run away."

"I did _not_ run away," he said fiercely.

"You avoid me at every turn, Rick."

He scoffed. "Yeah, well, sometimes you make it too easy to want that." he muttered.

"Why are you so cruel?"

"Me? _Me_? You say you want to leave, and I'm the cruel one? You accuse me of not loving my family–my _son_ –in front of him and I'm the one that's cruel?"

Lori sighed. "You don't get it. You never do. That's why I'm leaving. I'm taking Carl to my—"

"You what?" Rick asked, voice low. He took a step closer. "If you wanna leave…fine. I won't stop you. But you are _not_ taking my son. Not from this house, and not from me."

"You can't stop me," she said, chin lifted high.

Rick cocked his head at her. "Do you know who you're talking to right now? You are out of your mind if you think for one second I'm letting you _take_ my son."

"Oh, _your_ son?" Lori laughed. "That's funnier everytime you say it.. It's a wonder Carl even remembers what you look like."

"You aren't taking him from me," Rick said quietly. "I can't allow that." Rick turned away, rubbing his face. "Maybe…maybe we can see a counselor or something. Get an impartial party."

"Like a mediation?" she asked, marginally curious.

He turned and looked at her, weary. "We owe it to Carl to try."

. . . . .

Michonne stood on Sasha's front porch as the sun set staring off into the distance, lost in thought of the last couple of days.

_"Sasha. Abraham. I thought I could do this alone. Or at least help, but…I can't go into that funeral home right now. I can't just…" Michonne's lip quivered. "I can't pick out a casket for my little boy." She looked at them. "I trust you–both of you to do right by him." Abraham looked down, but nodded. Sasha embraced her in yet another hug. It was one less thing Michonne had to think about, and for that, she was grateful._

"Michonne."

Michonne blinked, and turned at the familiar voice. He was standing on the walkway, looking up at her on the porch. She gave Glenn a small smile. "Hey."

"Maggie and I…we stopped by the house a few times. Tried to call."

Michonne looked away. "I know."

He walked down the pathway and up the steps until he was standing next to her. "Why didn't you want to see us?" he asked, looking at her.

Michonne exhaled, clenching a fist over her folded arm. "It was too hard. Not you. Not Maggie, but…"

"Josie?" Glenn supplied.

Michonne nodded. "Yeah."

"I get it–"

"You don't. But…I'm sorry I shut you out. Both of you."

Glenn nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets, looking at his shoes. "Have…have you spoken to Mike."

Michonne narrowed her eyes. "Is _that_ why you're here? Have _you_ spoken to him?"

Glenn looked at her, startled. "What? No. I just…was just checking up on you. Everything."

Michonne relaxed. "I'm sorry."

"No need for you to be," Glenn said, nudging her with his shoulder, then, pulling one hand out, wrapped it around her shoulders. "You a cop, now?"

Michonne scoffed, a small smile on her face. "Everyone's fascinated with this coat."

"Eh, it suits you."

"How's Mags?" she asked, glancing at him.

"Stressed about you. She wants to help, however she can."

"I don't know how I'm gonna be able to…tether these pieces of my life, Glenn. I just don't know," she whispered. "But…ask her if she can do the obituary–"

"Done. Whatever you need. You know that."

"Yeah. I know."


	8. Brink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When things shift, you must pivot...

Thanks everyone for showing this some love! Half dead right, but was determined to get this done. Pardon the typos!

* * *

"Mrs. Ford?"

Sasha looked confused for a moment, then shook herself. "Sheriff Grimes. Surprised to see you."

"Please, call me Rick," he said, extending his hand.

Sasha nodded, holding out her hand. "I guess we didn't officially meet."

"No, we didn't. Listen uh, I was wondering if you could give me the details on the funeral arrangements."

"Yes. Of course."

Rick leaned in, quietly asking, "How is she?"

Sasha sighed. "Holding up, I think. When she closes in on herself…she won't let me know how much she's hurting. I'm her sister and she won't talk to me about it." Sasha stared at him for a moment. "Probably wouldn't hurt to hear from you, though."

...

Michonne stepped out onto the porch, still wearing Rick's coat. "My sister's house has become a hub for visitors."

Rick shrugged. "Was hoping you wouldn't mind the company."

"I don't."

"That's good," he said with a smile. Then— "Listen…have you been out at all?"

"Just here. Home. Here again."

Rick nodded. "Wanna take a walk with me?"

Michonne stared at him, then headed down off the porch steps, Rick following behind her. Slowly they walked side by side down the street.

"My brother-in-law takes these classes. It's with a guy that makes cheese, but, he's big on meditation, calming the mind, stuff like that."

Michonne looked over at him. "Have you ever done that?"

"Well, no…"

"Would you take it with me?" she asked, curious.

"If you'd like that."

"I would."

Rick smiled, looking off to the side. "Okay."

They walked in silence for a bit, then Michonne asked, "I don't mean to make things complicated, but…will you be there Friday?"

Rick stopped walking, making Michonne pause as well, turning to look at him. "Yeah. I'll be there."

Michonne gave him a grateful smile. "Figured you would." She resumed walking, and he did, too.

"Well, you figured right."

They continued their walk in silence. Not touching, but close, each feeling comforted by the other's presence. After twenty-two minutes, not that Rick was keeping track of the time, she asked him to walk her back.

"I should probably hand this over to you," she said once they were in front of Sasha's house, referencing his coat. Rick stopped her hands from bringing down the zipper with his.

"You keep it," he said, zipping it back up. "Looks better on you, anyway."

Michonne's brow furrowed. "You sure?"

Rick nodded, backing away. "If I change my mind, I know where to find you."

...

Rick stood in front of his squad, addressing them, looking each man in the eye.

"Okay. I have a favor to ask of you. I only need five of you to join me, but... And it's not even a favor. It's just the right thing to do. The funeral for Andre Logan will be this Friday. The father wants to come. We can't stop him. But what we _can_ do is make sure the situation stays controlled. That is part of what we do. Not even just that—I want this police force to show its support at this tragedy; show the community our solidarity on this matter. The lives of our children matter, and we won't let Andre be forgotten. Now. Who will stand with me, in uniform, this Friday?"

Several of the men nodded in agreement, with six raising their hands.

"I'm off that day," one said.

"Good," Rick said, nodding at him. Then he turned his eyes to Shane, who exhaled a heavy sigh before raising his hand, too.

"Yeah, I'll be there. Rick? Let me talk to you for a minute."

"Alright everyone. Back to work." Rick looked at Shane, motioning for him to follow him to his office.

If there was a way to quietly slam a door, Shane had mastered it.

"What the hell was _that_?" he asked, fuming.

"Looked to me like contributing to the community," Rick reasoned.

Shane waved him off. "Don't give me that shit, man. What is this? Huh? What is going on with you?"

"I don't know what you're—"

"Oh, you don't?" Shane began to pace like a caged animal. "You've been spending all of your free time with that woman. Your marriage is going to hell—"

"Hey—"

"And I know…I know you feel bad about her losing her boy. Something like that is rough. Rougher for someone like you, who has a kid. But Rick, believe me when I say you are getting caught up in something."

Rick stared at him impassively. "Shane. I swear I'm fine. What this is—it's right. It's the right thing to do, giving our support. I'm glad you'll be there to show your support, too."

"Yeah. I'll show my support," Shane said, scoffing. "Just know that my support is for you, and your impending insanity."

Rick smirked at him. "Appreciate it either way."

...

Carol came into Rick's office, smiling, with a plate of cookies. "Is Lori here?" she asked from between her teeth.

Rick shook his head. "No. Why would she be here?"

Carol dropped the façade, handed him the cookies, then plopped into the chair across from him. "Because, Rick, that woman is like a Kardashian. She's everywhere. I came to talk to you, and not make nice with her." Carol leaned forward. "Something's gotta be done."

"Done about what?"

"Lori called me. Whining about you like she expected me to do something. I'm _your_ sister. Outside of you beating her, which, you'd never do, I'd never take her side. Not sure why she thought I would," Carol explained with an exaggerated roll of her eyes.

Rick drummed his fingers on his desk, looking away. "She wants a divorce. She wants to take Carl."

Carol grabbed his hand. "Oh sweetie…we can't have that."

"Divorce?"

"No. I meant let her take Carl. He's your _son_ , Rick. And my namesake."

"Carol—"

"Well…he should've been. I was lucky. I had Sophia. Untethered the burden that was Ed, met Morgan, and got Duane. You _can_ start again, you know. You can't hold onto something that's dead and buried. I'm speaking from experience."

Rick sat back, marveling at her. "Wow. You think I should just quit my marriage?"

"Oh sunshine, your marriage quit you a long time ago. It's about time you caught up."


	9. Illyria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Can we rest, now?"

This is me; this is me nervous AF, y’all...please drop a review, even if you hate it.  I need some feedback on this one!

 _“I wash my hands; I said my grace._  
What more do you want from me?  
Tears of a clown—guess I'm not all what is meant to be.  
Shades of grey will never change if I condone…  
Turn this page; help me change, so right my wrongs…”

_\- from “How Much a Dollar Cost” by Kendrick Lamar_

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 The limo ride was deathly silent.

Sasha decided to order it so that no one had to drive on the day.  Along with Abraham and Noah, who sat on Michonne’s left, they also had Maggie, who was on Michonne’s right, holding her hand, Glenn and Beth.  Sasha stared at her sister, who refused to look at anyone.  She had helped Michonne dress into a simple, black suit, and braided her hair into a French braid.  Sasha frowned sadly, recalling that Michonne hadn’t said more than “No thank you” since the day before.  Abraham grabbed her hand, staring at her.  She smiled at him, grateful to have his strength to lean on.  Still, she looked back at her sister, wondering how she could offer her the strength she so sorely needed.

.....

Michonne stepped out of the limo, the harshness of the sun’s rays making her squint. And every step she took towards the church door…it felt as if she were walking through hardening cement, and the air seemed to grow thin.  Abraham and Glenn seemed to materialize on either side of her, holding her up.  She paused, collecting herself, so that they wouldn’t have to drag her in.

_‘You can make it.  You can walk.  You can do this…’_

Except she couldn’t.  She wanted to scream.  She wanted to give up…

And then the church doors were open, and lining the aisles were the Stoney Creek Police Department.  Michonne’s eyes drifted to Rick, who was at the end of the line, hat off in respect.    Before she went to her seat, she paused in front of him, and grabbed one of his hands tightly, appreciative of what he had done.

.....

Rick found himself wishing he’d worn sunglasses to the funeral as he swiped at his eye.  He couldn’t bring himself to look in the direction of the tiny casket.  Instead, he kept his eyes on Michonne the entire ceremony.  She couldn’t take her eyes off of the glazed, wooden box. After a while, he could tell she wasn’t there.  Not really.  The only good news was, Mike hadn’t shown up, and Rick certainly hoped it would stay that way.

By the time they got to the cemetery, hope had run out of luck.  Mike had arrived, slowly approaching the seating area meant for the family.  Eyes narrowed, Rick headed off to meet him halfway.  He stopped once he felt a hand on his arm—Michonne.

“It’s okay,” she said, staring at him.  Rick stared back, then nodded.  When he saw her resume walking towards Mike, he swallowed nervously.  Still, he stood there, waiting.  He had to let Michonne make the call on this; he refused to rob her of that.

.....

Seeing Mike there…it revived Michonne of a strength she hadn’t realized she still possessed.  “Didn’t think you’d show up,” she said calmly.

“Didn’t think you’d have the Sheriff and his band of brothers here,” Mike countered.  Though his comment was flippant, his tone wasn’t.  He could hardly look her in the eye.

“I didn’t ask them to.  Though I’m glad they’re here.  I’m glad _you’re_ here, so you can watch our boy…be _lowered_ into the ground, and know that I wish it was you.”  She stepped closer to him, invading his personal space, and whispered, “It should have been _you_.”  With that, she slowly backed away, watching him stand there, looking miserable.  He didn’t dare step closer after that.  Finally, Michonne turned her back on him, not bothering to see if he was still there or not.

To Michonne, Mike may as well have been dead and gone.

.....

“Lord God,” Father Gabriel spoke as people walked by, tossing in flowers on top of the casket.  “Ever caring and gentle…We commit to your love this little one, quickened to life for so short a time. Enfold him in eternal life.”  He looked over at Michonne, pausing.  “We pray for his mother, Michonne, who is saddened by the loss of her son, Andre.  Give her courage, and help her in her pain and grief.  May they meet one day in the joy and peace of your kingdom.  Amen.”

Michonne walked up to the open grave, letting the white rose slip from her fingers, and just stood there, looking down.

“Rick? You ready man?” Shane asked him. Shane exhaled, watching Rick watch Michonne.  “You want me to cover for you?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

That shook Rick out of his reverie.  “What? Why?”

“Well, I’m guessing you aren’t going back to the squad room or home.  So I’ll ask the question again—want me to cover for you?”

Rick looked at him, then looked down, brow furrowed.  “Yeah,” he said.

Shane clapped him on the back before walking away.  “Try not to be too long, man.  Text me.”

Rick turned, watching Shane and the others leave, then turned back to Michonne, walking over to her.

.....

“You coming?” Sasha asked her.  

Michonne stood, motionless, staring at the open grave.  “No.”

Sasha looked pained, ready to plead with her sister until—

“It’s okay.  I’ll stay with her.”  

Sasha looked at Rick, then nodded gratefully.  “I’ll see you later tonight, okay?” Sasha said.  Michonne didn’t respond—she just kept looking down at the bed of flowers on top of Andre’s casket.  She hugged Michonne tightly, then walked over to Abraham, Noah and the others by the limo. 

When it was silent, and everyone was gone, Rick looked at Michonne, then gently took her hand.  She interlocked their fingers, then quietly cried.  Taking a deep breath, she said, “…Rick?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t want to be alone tonight.”  Her voice was just above a whisper.

Rick swallowed, looking at the sun.  It was only a little after one; there were many hours to go before nightfall.  Rick looked at her, then swiped his thumb over her hand in an attempt to comfort her.  “Okay.”

“I don’t mean—”

“I know. I understand.”

Michonne nodded.  “All right.”

“Did you drive?” he asked.

“No. We all came together...”

“But you stayed here.  How’d you know you’d have a ride back?”

Michonne looked at him, her eyes knowing.  “’Cause I knew you’d be here.”

.....

Michonne took off her black blazer, taking down the French braid Sasha had made of her locks, while Rick took off his Sheriff’s hat and gun belt, placing them on the hotel desk.  They sat next to each other on the edge of the bed, close, silent.  The lights were out, curtains drawn, but the sun peaked through, illuminating the room.  Slowly, Rick reached out, grabbing her hand, resting their joined hands in the middle of their touching thighs.

“I wish I could stay all night, but…”

“It’s okay.  Really.”

“I can stay till night fall,” he murmured.

Michonne nodded, leaning her head on his shoulder.  Gently, he kissed her forehead, causing her to break down, hiding her face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent—fresh linen, soap, the faintness of salt, something earthy and the underlying smell that was strictly him.

“It’s really over,” she whispered.

He held her close, not wanting to let go, letting his warmth radiate onto her. He rested his chin on the crown of her head, lightly stroking her back.  After a few moments, she quieted, as a few tears continued to fall.  She involuntarily moaned in protest when he let her go.

“Wait a minute, wait a minute…”  He knelt at her feet, taking off her black heels, placing them neatly by the bed. Then he stood, taking off his own shoes, walking along the side of the bed, sitting down.  “Come here,” he said, stretching out and lying down.  Michonne looked at him for a moment before rising, walking over to the opposite side of the bed, and laid down next to him.  Simultaneously, they rolled onto their sides, staring at each other.  Rick lifted his hand, brushing her hair away from her face.  He wanted to tell her she was beautiful, but he didn’t.  Instead, he just stared, into her eyes, belatedly realizing he had the urge to kiss her.  But he couldn’t.

He wouldn’t. 

Instead, he leaned his forehead against hers, and closed his eyes.  She snuggled against him, hiding from the world in his embrace.  Limbs entwined, they fell asleep.

 

 

  


 

 

 


	10. Covet

**[Previous parts here.](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11915760/1/Useful-to-You) **

_Note: An anon asked me why the last chapter was called “Illyria.”  Well, it was for a very meta and geeky reason:_ _  
_

_Literaturechick left the following comment:_ _  
_

_“Rick and Michonne are truly behaving like two people who have been together all their lives, so drawn to each other, so natural with each other, so able to speak honestly and freely with each other, true soul mates I'd say.”_

_I first heard the name Illyria on _Angel_ —she/it was an “old one”—a god.  I’ve discussed recently the idea that Michonne and Rick were soulmates, and find each other in varying lifetimes.  The Illyrians were also an ancient people, and the name invokes the spirit of freedom, which I feel exemplifies Richonne. _

  


[Originally posted by likeafist](http://tmblr.co/Zdj8txgAl3zT)

 

So, this is more of an interlude than a true chapter, but I’m prepping for a time jump, and this bit would not have worked there, so...

* * *

 

“Hello?  Oh hey, Lori,” Shane said, clenching his jaw.  

_“Is Rick still working?”_

“Yeah, Rick was breaking up a fight. Well, more like a family disagreement. It was like the Capulets and the Montahues.”

_“Montagues?”_

Shane rolled his eyes.  “You know what I meant.  Anyway, he’s trying to keep the peace.  Regular Captain America, our Rick.”

_“Okay. Tell him to make sure he’s home in time for dinner.”_

“Yep.” 

“Shit,” Shane cursed to himself, pulling out his cell.  He began to text Rick, then closed the window, opting to call him.

.....

The sound of faint buzzing brought Rick out of his sleep induced haze.  He had his arm wrapped around Michonne, her body pressed against his, spooning her.  Sitting up slightly, he saw that her eyes were still closed.  He lightly brushed his fingers down her arm, then kissed her shoulder before rolling away, pulling his cell out of his pocket and heading to the bathroom.

“Yeah.”

_“Hey man, what’s going on over there?  Tops off? Pants down?”_

Rick sighed. “Shane…”

_“Alright look, Lori called.  Told her you were buried in paperwork, trying to break up a family feud.  It’s sorta true—there was almost a family altercation today.  Anyway, she said to be home for dinner.”_

“Thanks for covering.”

 _“Yeah, yeah. Just make sure you give me_ all _the details tomorrow.”_

Rick could just visualize the leer on Shane’s face in that moment.  “It’s not…it’s not like that.”

_“The fuck it’s not, man.”_

“Nothing happened,” Rick whispered harshly.

“But you wanted it to, didn’t you?”

Rick shook his head, exhaling into the phone.  “…No.”

 _“I don’t think even_ you _believed that pitiful response.”_

Rick’s brow furrowed as he leaned against the sink.  He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “Nothing happened, but…I don’t know what I’m doing,” Rick admitted quietly.  “But she needs me to be here.  I _wanna_ be here.”

_“I don’t know what to tell you, Rick.  Except just…whatever it is, figure it out.  Figure it out quick, man._

“Yeah.  See you tomorrow.  Thanks again.”  Rick hit end, putting the phone on the counter.  He walked to the doorway and stared at Michonne, admiring her silhouette.  When he saw her shiver, curling in on herself a bit, he went to the closet, grabbing the extra blanket, and draped it over her.

“Rick,” she murmured.

“I’m here,” he whispered, resuming his place behind her, underneath the blanket.  “I’m still here,” he said, grasping her hand.

.....

The time seemed to have flown by.  Before Michonne knew it, Rick had to leave.

“Will you be okay?  Here, alone, I mean,” he said as she walked him to the door.

“I just need some time.  I feel smothered at my sister’s, and too alone at home.”

He turned to her, staring at her softly.  “You checking out tomorrow?”

Michonne nodded, moving her hair back from her face.  “Yeah.”

“Do you want me to come pick you up?”

Michonne gave him a small smile, but shook her head. “It’s okay.  I’ll have Sasha do it.”

“You sure?  Cause I could just—”

“Rick…I appreciate everything you’ve done. Really.  You’ve given me…”  She trailed off, taking his left hand, looking down at it.  “I can’t even begin to say thank you.”

“You don’t need to,” he said, voice low, and sincere.

“Well, I won’t keep you any longer.  You have things to tend to.”  She looked at him then, her face open and earnest.

Rick squeezed her hand as his eyes traced her countenance.  He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “If you change your mind about tomorrow, or ever need to talk…”

“Yeah.  I know.” She let his hand go, taking a step back.

Rick nodded to himself, looking away, attempting to hide a pained expression.  “You take care.  Okay?”

As Rick turned the knob, opening the door, Michonne felt something clench in her chest.  Still, she should there, letting him leave.

 


	11. Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time marches on...

Feedback please...very uncertain about, ya know, everything.  Thanks to everyone who’s left feedback thus far ^_^

 

* * *

 

 

_He opened his eyes slowly, and saw hers looking back at him. Gently, her fingers wove their way through his neatly trimmed hair.  Space nor time could not separate them.  He was like the earth to her sun, touched by her ever glowing brilliance.  Stuck in orbit, moved by her gravitational pull. Just once, he did not fight it. He leaned in, and she did not pull away. Ever so gently, he kissed her soft, full lips, forever transforming the core of his very being.  His shuddering sigh mirrored her own, and he felt both lost and found.  She pulled back, staring into the depths of his soul, then turned away, pulling his arm with her, coalescing into his warm embrace…_

“Rick? Rick, you still here?”

Rick’s head snapped up, focusing on what Andrea, their marriage counselor, was saying. He looked over at Lori who looked at him expectantly.

“Oh. Um…what was the question again?”

Lori sighed in exasperation.  “This is what I mean.  He just…checks out.”

“This isn’t about blame, Lori,” Andrea said, though she looked at Rick.  “We’re trying to get to the root of your problems.  We can’t do that if we’re busy pointing fingers.”

Lori crossed her arms, looking away.

“Rick.  I asked what it is that you want, going forward.” Andrea had her pen at the ready, notebook open.

Rick looked away, thinking.  “I’d like to not argue.  I want…I want to be happy.”

“You aren’t happy?” Lori asked, looking at him, wounded.

Rick looked at her.  “Lori, isn’t that why we’re here?  Are _you_ happy?”

Lori looked away once more.

Rick looked back at Andrea.  “We haven’t been happy for a long time.  I don’t know that we’ll be able to get back there, but…I’m here to see.”  He looked over at Lori.  “I’m gonna see.”

. . . . .

“That therapy shit working?” Daryl asked, digging into the basket of boneless wings. Shane stared at him.

“Jesus, man. I hope you washed your hands,” Shane said, taking a fork and picking up some of the wings.  

Daryl looked at him, licking the sauce off of his fingers after putting some on a plate. “Hmm.”

Rick grabbed one of the celery sticks, dipping it into the blue cheese sauce.  “I don’t know if it’s working.  How can you tell?”

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess that’s a no,” Shane said, taking a healthy swig of beer.

They were at the local watering hole, The End Zone.  It was endless boneless buffalo wings and four dollar beers night, and therefore, guys’ night out.

“Mind still elsewhere?” Daryl asked.

Rick took a drink.  “Yeah.”

“I think you should just call her.  See her. Bust one out and get her out of your head.”  

Rick shoved Shane.  “Come on, man,” Rick chastised.

“Nah. That’s not Rick’s style,” Daryl said.

Shane smirked. “Ol’ loverboy?  Yeah.  I know. But see, his problem is, he doesn’t know if he wants to woo someone new, or re-woo someone old.”  

Daryl cracked his knuckles.  “Instead of trying to save your marriage, you should try and save _you_.  It’s been two months of counseling, and where has that gotten you?”

“When was the last time you and Lori even slept together?” Shane asked.

Rick’s brow furrowed.  “I dunno. But at least we’re sleeping in the same bed again.”  Rick thought about how they would sleep on separate sides of the bed, backs to each other. He shook his head, attempting to shake away the visual.

Daryl quirked his lips.  “That’s your bright side?  Man. That’s fucking sad.”  Daryl patted his vest down.  “Damn…out of smokes.  Gonna run next door and get some.  They don’t have my brand here.”

“Can’t imagine why they don’t.  Clearly you’re their best customer.”  

Daryl grabbed a wing off of Shane’s plate in response.

Rick stood.  “I’ll get ‘em.”

“You sure?” Daryl asked.

“Pfft. He just wants to get away from this conversation,” Shane said, getting a few more wings.

“What he said,” Rick said with a wink, heading out to the gas station across the street. It was a short walk, but Rick thought it might help clear his head.  He seemed to be attempting to do that more often than not, these days…

. . . . .

Michonne’s head automatically jerked up at the sound of the bell on the door jingling. She was coming back from her kick boxing class, stopping for juice and gas.  Bottle in hand, she looked up and saw Rick.  He was in a white T-shirt and faded jeans.  He looked…well.  He looked well.  Michonne jerked back behind an aisle, then promptly rolled her eyes at herself, coming out of hiding.  She didn’t know why she was so nervous.  Even though she hadn’t seen him in two months or so, he was still Rick.

. . . . .

“Yeah. Let me get a box of Newports, please,” Rick said to the clerk.

“Hello, Rick.”

Rick swallowed, a wave of emotion washing over him, though he couldn’t put his finger on which emotion it was.  A multitude of them—relief, fear, joy…  He turned, and a smile bloomed on his face at the sight of her.  She was so lovely.  He hadn’t forgotten how lovely, but it was startling, seeing her beauty in the flesh.  Her hair was pulled into a bun, and she was wearing one of those workout tank tops, its electric blue color complimenting her skin.  Rick quickly glanced downward, then instantly regretted it, taking in her practically painted on spandex workout leggings.

“Michonne,” he said, still smiling that soft smile.  

She lowered her eyes, smiling back.  “How’ve you been?”

“Hey buddy, you gonna pay for these squares or what?” the clerk said from behind him, impatient.

Rick looked apologetic, turned and quickly paid for the cigarettes, then stepped to the side so that he could continue talking to Michonne.

Michonne eyed the green and white pack.  “You’ve started smoking?”

“Oh these?” Rick shook his head.  “Nah.  I’m just buying these for a friend.  Having drinks across the street.”

Michonne nodded.

“You look good. Great.  You look great,” Rick said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Michonne smiled.  “Thank you. I uh…I moved.  Sold the house.  Damn near everything in it.  Except for some pictures, some art…few mementos...”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.  I was in danger of making it a shrine, and…” Michonne looked away, then turned back to him.  “Anyway, I’m Downtown.  Loft. It’s nice.  Different.”

“Oh. When did you move?”

“Two weeks ago. I should have texted you, but I—”

“I should have called you,” Rick said.

Michonne shook her head, smiling at him.  “I told you I’d call you.  Not your fault.”

“Listen, Michonne—”

“Rick, I—”  Michonne sighed, shaking her head.  “I was leaning too much on you.”

“You weren’t. And hey, I don’t want you to think that…It’s not that I think you needed me.  You didn’t.  I just wanted to be there for you.  I still do. I want…”  The sound of a bell ringing in the distance went unnoticed by both of them.   “I missed you,” Rick blurted out. Michonne looked at him, startled.  He stared at her, unblinking.  “I want—”

“Give me everything you got, man!”

Rick and Michonne’s heads both snapped to the front of the store.  A man with a bandana on his face held a gun at the clerk, finger at the trigger.

“Shit,” Rick muttered, turning so that he stood fully in front of Michonne.

The gunman turned to Rick, but kept his gun on the clerk who was pulling money out of the register.  “Don’t do nothing stupid, man.”

“Naw, wouldn’t wanna be like you.  You should put that gun down, now.  No harm’s been done, yet.  You can walk away from this,” Rick said, slowly advancing on him.

“I said, stay _back!_ ” the gunman yelled.

Rick lunged, knocking the gunman into a rack, a shot firing off into the ceiling at the impact. They struggled for the gun, with Rick slamming the gunman repeatedly into the rack and into the glass window, gripping the man’s wrists tightly and holding it above their heads.  The glass broke under the weight and the rack, both men tumbling out of it, the rack hanging halfway out the broken window and halfway in the store.  Rick felt a ringing in his ears as Michonne yelled his name in the distance.  He staggered to his feet at the same time the gunman did.  With a roar, Rick lunged at him.  He was fast, but not fast enough.  A shot rang out.  Rick thought he heard a bell ring as he looked down at his shirt, a brilliant red spreading all over it.  Rick blinked before collapsing to the ground.

. . . . .

Michonne kicked the gunman hard in the back of the leg, making him drop to his knees. She hit him upside the head with her elbow, then brought his face down into her raised knee, knocking him out. She picked up the gun from him, pointed it at him for a second, then turn and ran to Rick.  Her breath was stuck in her throat at the sight of him. She dropped to her knees, putting the gun down, placing her hands over the wound just underneath his clavicle.  

“Rick…it’s okay.  Just stay with me.  Stay with me,” she murmured.  She looked around, then saw the clerk poke his head out of the broken window.

“Jesus,” he said, looking at her.

Michonne, hands wet with blood and eyes full of tears, look at him and shrilly yelled, “Help us!”


	12. Significant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick has a family.

Rick’s blood was warm and sticky on her fingers; on her palms, creeping up her arms. She could feel it on her knees, seeping through the material of her leggings.  She was right by his side in the ambulance, as the paramedics dressed his wound, fitting his slack face with an oxygen mask.  She stared at him, holding his hand, willing him to wake up.

And then he did.

His eyes fluttered a bit, and he looked right at her.  As soon as they opened, they fell closed, and the sound of a piercing beep filled the air.

“He’s flat lining.  Get the paddles.  Ma’am, I’m gonna need you to let him go.”

“Let him go?”

_I can’t.  I can’t. No. No. No…_

Michonne held her hands to her mouth as the paramedic rubbed the paddles together.

“Clear!”

She couldn’t catch her breath as the electrical currents traveled through his limp body, making it jump. Once.  Twice.

“Please, Rick, come back,” she wept.  They shocked him a third time.  “Rick!” she yelled.

A fourth time, and—

The beeps resumed.  “We got a pulse.”

Michonne shut her eyes tight, tears steadily streaming down her face.  

. . . . .

She stared at him as she followed behind the gurney.  She couldn’t believe how deathly pale he was; how quiet; how still.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” a nurse said, halting her.  “Family only.”

“It’s okay—” the paramedic interrupted.  “That’s his wife.”.

The nurse nodded.  “Okay, come with me.”

Michonne followed quietly behind her.  

“We need to take him into surgery to get the bullet out.  He’s had significant blood loss, but…we’re hopeful.  Do we have your consent?”

Michonne stared hard at the nurse.  “Save him. Whatever it takes.”  

. . . . .

She sat in the waiting room, staring at her hands, the blood now dry, but still a brilliant red.

_“I_ am _family.  He’s my brother and beside me on the blue line!”_

Michonne looked up to see the door shoved open.

“Relax, man,” a man said to the cop.  She recognized him—he was with Rick at the funeral.  At her house…  Michonne looked back at the other man and figured he knew Rick as well, but that he wasn’t a cop.

The cop looked at her, staring for a minute.

“It’s you. You were there?” he asked, confused.

“I…I was.”

“What happened?” he demanded more than asked.

“Shane, man—”

“How did this _happen_?  The man goes to get a pack of cigarettes and then…”  Shane turned away, his face twisted in anger and fear.  He looked back at her, pointing.  “You saw what went down, right?”

“I did,” Michonne said.  “The gunman…Rick tried to stop him.”

“Goddamn it,” Shane muttered, rubbing his head.

The other man sat down heavily next to her, dropping his head in his hands.  “It’s my fault,” she heard him mutter.  “Couldn’t go one fucking night without smokes…”

“It ain’t your fault, man,” Shane said.  “But I tell you what—that son of a bitch is gonna pay,” Shane said, walking over to the window.  “And that lousy fucking clerk…more concerned about a window than the cop that saved his sorry ass.  How did he manage to shoot Rick?” he mused aloud.  “He was disarmed.”

“I…” Michonne paused, gathering her thoughts. “He fought him, and they went through the window.  Rick was shot before I could…But I stopped him.  I stopped the gunman.”

Shane turned and looked at her, stunned.  “You stopped him?”

Michonne looked away.  “I just wish I’d been faster.”

Shane sighed heavily, then abruptly punched the wall, breaking through the plaster.  The other man and Michonne, while startled, looked at him without comment.  Shane ignored them, breaking down crying, hiding his face.  “I can’t lose him.  I can’t…”

“Shit. Have you gotten in contact with Lori yet?”  Daryl asked, shrinking down into his seat, wanting to hide.

Shane shook his head, wiping his face, his knuckles bloody.  “No.  She won’t pick up.  And I can’t text something like…”

“Lori?” Michonne asked.

“Rick’s wife,” the man said to her.

“Oh,” Michonne muttered.  “And what’s your name?”

“Daryl,” he said, turning to her.  “Rick’s like my brother.  Shane, too. We’ve been friends since high school.”

Michonne looked down, then over to Shane.  “Text her—Lori—that it’s an emergency,” she said.

Shane looked over at her.  “At least we’re here for him,” Shane said.  “At least we’re here.”  Shane’s eyes narrowed.  “Speaking of, how’d you get in here?”

“What?” she asked, startled.  

Daryl stood up, placing his hand on Shane’s shoulder.  “Hey, come on, man.”  
  
Shane shrugged him off, walking closer to Michonne.  “We practically had to barge our way in here, convincing this simple staff we’re family. Why’d they let you in?”

Michonne’s eyes darted to the left, then back.  “I was on the scene.  I demanded to go with him.”  She swallowed.  “Saw him flat line…they thought I was his wife.  I didn’t correct them.  I gave my consent for his surgery.”

Shane cocked his head to the side.  “Well shit, lady.  That was mighty ballsy.  Good on you. That surgery…it’s gonna save his life. You getting him help…thank you.” Shane stuck out his hand. Michonne hesitated, but held hers out as well.  Shane nearly broke down at the sight of the blood.  Michonne put her hand down, standing quickly.

“Gonna…bathroom,” she mumbled, walking briskly out of the room.

Standing at the bathroom sink, she scrubbed and scrubbed, flecks of red stubbornly staying in her cuticles, under her nails…it’s like it didn’t want to come off; a reminder of her failure to act more swiftly.

She braced her hands on the sides of the sink, tinged pink from the remnants of Rick’s blood. She looked at herself in the mirror, then quietly broke down, bowing her head, her mind plagued with what ifs and should’ve beens.

Silently, she made a promise to herself: that he would make it through this, and that she would be there to make sure of it.  

Michonne was not leaving his side.


	13. Bound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane's okay.

“Honestly, Lori, shared custody is the best you’re gonna get.  We’re talking about the sheriff in town.  A judge will be sympathetic to you, being the boy’s mother, but your husband’s done nothing wrong,” Lori’s attorney, Philip Blake advised.  They were having dinner at a tapas Downtown--an evening which should have been dedicated to quality time with Lori’s girlfriends.

“He’s not abusive, he doesn’t cheat, he’s gainfully employed...you may as well have married a boy scout.”

“Actually, he was a...”  Lori trailed off at Philip’s unamused stare.  “What if I leave?  Left the state?” she asked.

“Well, you could,” Philip said, leaning back in his chair.  “But if you take your son with you, he could have you arrested.  Thrown in prison for kidnapping.  It wouldn’t even be local--I’m talking an FBI matter.”

Lori quietly fumed, gulping her glass of wine, thinking.  She heard her phone beep, yet again, then pulled it out in exasperation.  “Sorry,” she said to Philip, looking at her screen.  She frowned, reading Shane’s message.  “Just a second,” she said, hitting the call button for Shane’s number.

Philip shrugged.  “Fine by me.  You’re on your time, not mine.”

Lori frowned as Shane’s phone went straight to voicemail.  She sent him a text, asking what the problem was.  Then, she called Rick, but got no answer.   _‘Well, if it’s really important, they’ll call back,’_ she thought.  “Okay, Mr. Blake,” she said, focusing her attention back on him.  “How much alimony can I get?

. . . . . 

_“Reviewing the tapes Shane and uh...Rick’s damn lucky.”_

“Lucky?  He’s under a knife right now in the hospital, getting a bullet dug out of him.  How are you defining lucky, Tyrese?”

_“That gunman was about to fire on him again.  If that woman hadn’t intervened, Rick would be laid up in the morgue, not the hospital.”_

“Sweet Jesus,” Shane muttered, looking over at Michonne, who was sitting with Daryl.  “Alright, man.  Keep me posted.”  Shane hung up the phone, then slowly walked over to the seating area.  

Daryl looked up at him.  “Hey, man.  Let me see your phone.  Gonna call Carol.”

“Yeah,” Shane said, handing it over.  Daryl took it, walking over to the other side of the room.  Shane took Daryl’s seat, next to Michonne, staring straight ahead, a small smile on his face.  “It’s funny.  I thought you were trouble.”

Michonne turned in her seat to stare at him straight on.  “Excuse me?”

“And in a way, you were.  Are,” he amended, ignoring the fact that she’d made a comment.  “But...you saved my best friend’s life today.”

Michonne sighed, shaking her head.  “Rick was shot because I wasn’t fast enough.  I wasn’t...”

Shane looked back at her.  Oh, but you were.  Spoke to one of the deputies at the scene, now, reviewing the tapes.  You see, turns out that gunman was about to shoot Rick _again_.  You saw to it he didn’t.”

Michonne stared at Shane, silent.

“I don’t know what...” Shane looked down.  “He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you,” he confessed.  

Michonne tried not to react, but a small smile escaped.  She looked away.

“This whole thing is sloppy.  I don’t know what’s going to happen, but...I think I get it.  Some of it, anyway.  I wouldn’t mind you sticking around.”

Michonne frowned.  “He’s married.”

“Yeah, he was married when you two spent the day in that hotel,” Shane smirked.

“Nothing hap--”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.  Heard that song a thousand times from Rick.  But you two...I don’t know what’s right.  Never professed to have any answers, but I don’t think it’s wrong, either.”  He looked at her.  “No matter what happens, my loyalty is to him.  You hurt him, we’re gonna have a problem.”  His tone was thoughtful, but it was clear to Michonne how much Shane cared about Rick.  She understood where he was coming from.

She smiled briefly, then looked away, grimacing.  “I saw him die, Shane.  I don’t ever want to see him hurt again.”

Daryl walked back over, looking at both of them anxiously.  “Carol’s coming. Carl’s with her.”

“Rick’s son?” Michonne asked.

“Yeah.  Apparently Lori dropped him off with Carol and Morgan.  Carol’s not sure where she went.”

Shane grunted in distaste.  “Figures.”  He looked at Michonne and her bloody clothes.  “You should...You should be here.  You should.  But I think it’d be good if you went home and showered and changed.  Carl’s just a kid.  This wouldn’t be a good first impression.”

Michonne looked down at herself.  He was right, clearly, but she didn’t want to leave.  At least not until Rick was safely out of surgery.

“It’ll be alright,” Shane said, as if he were reading her thoughts.  “ _He’ll_  be alright.  I’ll make sure of it.  Just...hurry on back.”

Michonne stood, walking quickly out of the room.  She found herself sprinting down the hallways, impatiently hitting the elevator buttons, and running out of the hospital.  Every step further away from Rick took great effort; an invisible force that beckoned her back to where he was.  But the fact remained she was covered in his blood.  She didn’t want his son to see that.  And when Rick finally woke up, she wouldn’t want him to see it either.


	14. Beta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The family assembles...

Michonne paused at the waiting room door.  There were three more people with Shane and Daryl—an older woman, a black man, and a little boy—Carl.  The adults were standing around, talking amongst themselves while Carl sat, alone.  He looked so incredibly sad, trying not to cry.  Michonne sighed, and opened the door.  All heads turned to look at her.

“Hey,” Daryl said, waving her over.  “This is her.”

Michonne paused, a deer caught in the headlights.  Carol stared at her, hand to her mouth, tears in her eyes.  Carl stood, walking over to her.

“Is it true?” he asked.  “Did you save my dad?” 

Michonne’s eyes flickered to Daryl and Shane.  Daryl nodded at her, while Shane looked at Carl.  “She sure did,” Shane said.  “That’s Michonne, and she’s a damn hero.”

“Hey,” she said awkwardly.  “I’m—” 

Carl cut her off, throwing himself against her, arms wrapped tightly around her torso.  “Thank you,” he whispered.  Then he cried, face buried in her white button down.  Michonne hugged him back, a tidal wave of emotions crashing down on her.  She took a deep breath, and let him go.  Carl took a moment, then let go as well. Michonne looked up and saw the woman standing behind Carl.

“It’s okay,” she said, rubbing his back.  Carl nodded, then went to sit back down.  She extended her hand to Michonne.  “I’m Carol—Rick’s sister.  That’s my husband, Morgan,” she said, glancing in his direction.  Morgan nodded at her in greeting.  “I just wanted to say…how thankful I am—we all are—for what you did.”  She wiped under eyes, trying to compose herself.  “We’re still waiting on someone to tell us something.”

“It’s a delicate operation,” Morgan said.  “It’s good that they’re taking their time.  Wouldn’t want them to rush something like that.  Hippocratic oath.”

“What’s that mean?” Carl asked.

Morgan shrugged.  “Basically that all life is precious.  And they know who your father is, so he’s in particularly careful hands right now.  I’m sure he’ll be fine, son.”

“Does my mom know?” he asked.

Everyone looked at everyone else.  

“We couldn’t get in contact with her,” Shane said.

“I just assumed…when you called me, that—Oh hell’s bells,” Carol said, fishing around in her purse for her cell.

“She still doesn’t know?” Michonne asked. 

“Not so far,” Daryl muttered.

Michonne shook her head, saying, “It’s been hours,” as she sat down.  As soon as she did, the doctor came through the door, making contact with everyone in the room before landing on Michonne.

“Mrs. Grimes?”

Michonne stiffened, but stood, walking over to him.

“Get here, now,” Carol said, her voice low, but loud enough for everyone to hear.  She put her phone away, walking over to Michonne and the doctor, everyone else crowding around as well. 

“Family?” the doctor asked.

“Yeah,” Michonne said, arms crossed.  “What’s the news?”

“Another hit or another inch…” he trailed off, glancing at Carl from the corner of his eye. “He’s lucky,” the doctor said.  “He’s in recovery.  Had to put him in a medically induced coma, but, should be awake and alert in the morning.”

There was a collective sigh of relief.  Carol hugged Morgan; Shane slapped Daryl’s shoulder, and rubbed Carl’s head.  Michonne hugged herself, eyes closed, smiling in relief.

“Can we see him?” Carl asked.

The doctor smiled at him.  “You sure can.  My nurse will show you back in a moment.  Goodnight, folks.”  The doctor exited.

Carol looked at Michonne, eyebrows raised.  “Mrs. Grimes?”

“You caught that, huh?” Shane said.  “Just a little mix-up.  A fortunate one, too.  Michonne gave the go ahead for the surgery.” 

Carol’s jaw tightened, but it was a flash.  Suddenly she was smiling and cheery.  Michonne stared at her.

“It’s just as well, isn't it?  I’m glad Rick had someone present at his time of need.”

“I wanted to help,” Michonne said sincerely.

Carol looked at her, eyes genuinely thankful.  “Oh, I know.  And I’m glad you were here.”

. . . . .

 

Quietly, they stood around Rick’s bed, watching him sleep.

“Should we say a prayer or something?” Daryl asked.

“What? No,” Carol said, pulling a face at the suggestion.

“It’s just weird, standing around like this, staring at him,” Daryl said.

“Can he hear us?” Carl asked, stepping closer.

“We find it helps, talking to the patients,” the nurse said.  “Why don’t you give it a try?”

Carl walked up to the bed, taking his dad’s hand.  “I’m glad you’re okay,” he said.  “I know you’ve had a rough time at work…maybe you could take a break for a little while.  Not forever, just…”  Carl sighed, letting go of Rick’s hand, turning away.  Michonne put a gentle hand on his shoulder, giving him a sad smile.  “It’ll be okay,” she murmured.  Carl smiled back.

Carol walked up to the bed, brushing back his hair with her fingers.  “What did we always say?  Cigarettes can _kill_.”  She turned and glared at Daryl, who looked at his shoes.  “You aren’t invincible, Rick.  That was a stupid thing you did.  Sometimes, you just gotta walk away.”  Carol leaned over, kissing his temple.  “Now hurry up and wake up so I can properly yell at you.”  She moved back, allowing room for the next person—Shane.

“Glad you’re okay, man.  Try not to get shot next time.”

Shane moved back, but no one else followed after. 

“Does anyone else want to say something?”  The nurse looked at the three people who hadn’t said anything.

“How long can we stay?” Michonne asked.

“Visiting hours are over at 11.”  She looked at her watch.  “Oh, it’s seven after.  We must let the patient get his rest!” she said, overly cheerful.

“Rest?  He’s in a damn coma,” Daryl said.

Michonne looked over her shoulder at Rick.  He looked pale, but peaceful.

“What about my mom?” Carl asked as they all exited the room.  “Will she get to see him?”

The nursed looked at Michonne, confused.  “Well um…she can see him tomorrow.  He’ll be awake then.” 

“Tomorrow?”

Everyone turned at the voice from behind them.  Lori was speed walking towards them.  “Hi,” she said to the nurse, extending her hand.  "I’m Mrs. Grimes.  What happened?”

The nurse frowned.  “Yes, well…he had a successful surgery.  He’ll have to stay here in the hospital a few days, though.”

Lori put her hand to her chest, taken aback.  “But he’s okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Lori breathed a sigh of relief, looking at everyone else. 

“Good, you’re all caught up, now,” Carol said, saccharine sweet.  Morgan looked to the ceiling, knowing that Hurricane Carol was on the horizon.

“I was held up—”

“Doing _what_?” Carol asked her.

Lori stared at her.  “I was out with friends.  So was Rick.”

“Yeah.  He was.  Then he was hurt, and no one could get in contact with you.  What if that had been Carl?  What if something _more_ had happened to your husband, Lori?”

The nurse slowly backed away, wanting to avoid the awkward conversation.

“I was on the other side of town,” Lori said meekly.

“Oh save it for someone who gives a shi—”

“Hey, you know what?” Shane interrupted.  “Lori, you haven’t met Rick’s very own hero—Michonne.”

Lori switched her attention from Carol to Michonne.  “What?”

“She saved him.”

“Oh goodness,” Lori said, stepping up to her, taking her hand.  “Thank you.”

Michonne looked away.  “It was only fair—he saved me first.”

“What do you mean?” Lori asked, genuinely baffled.

“Oh, that um…the gunman pulled the gun on us, and Rick stood in front of me.  He wanted to stop that guy from hurting anyone.” 

“And got hurt in the process,” Lori mused, shaking her head.  “I guess he forgot he had a son to take care of.”  Lori looked at Carl.  “Oh sweetie…come here.”

Carl went to his mother, hugging her. 

“I’ll take you home,” Lori said.

“What?  No,” Carl said, adamant.  “I wanna stay with dad.”

“It’s late, sweetie.  I have to get you home.”

“But you haven’t even _seen_ him, yet.  We still have time.” 

“Yes, but the nurse said—” 

“I don’t. Care,” Carl interjected, defiantly. 

“Hey now, Carl.  Come on.  Listen to your mother,” Shane said.

Carol glared at Lori, then looked at her nephew.  “He’ll be okay, Carl.  We should all go home.  Get some rest.”

Carl looked around at everyone, then stormed off in the direction of the elevators.  After giving him a head start, everyone else followed behind. 

Except for Michonne.

Daryl, noticing, turned and walked back to her.  “You coming?” he asked.

“In a minute.”

He gave her a curt nod, heading off.  Michonne exhaled a breath, looked to make sure the corridor was clear, then went back in Rick’s room.  Gently closing the door, she pulled up a chair next to the bed.  She stood there for a moment, brow furrowed, staring at him, gently caressing his face with the back of her hand.  “Foolish,” she murmured, then sat down in the chair, waiting.


	15. Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awake...

HUGE thanks to @whoareyouandwhyshouldicare for making this wonderful, gorgeous cover art for this fic, and for putting up with me.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Michonne couldn’t sleep.  She spent most of the night alternating between staring at Rick or the TV.  Looking carefully at his face, she could see cuts marring his flesh.  Though they looked superficial, she idly wondered if they would heal.  She sighed, thinking that the phrase “time heals all wounds” had to be a lie.  There were always scars, a painful reminder of what was.  Though she couldn’t see Rick’s wound, due to the hospital gown, she knew it was there.  She stood, pulling the blankets up over him.

“I know you’re not awake, but, it’s cold in here.  Can you feel it?”  She touched his arm--the hairs were raised, goose flesh rising.  “You can.  I wonder if you can hear me, if...”  She paused, collecting her thoughts.  “I didn’t mean to pull away from you.  I just...I felt so _weak_ , and I didn’t know how to grieve.  I still don’t.  Not with my family, or my friends.  I’ve always had to be the strong one for so long, Rick.  But you made it okay for me not to be.  I could just...exist.  Be vulnerable.  But I was afraid I’d stay that way.”

She sat heavily in the chair next to his bed.  “I was afraid I’d need you-- _keep_ needing you.  Well that, and...”  She laughed, looking at the gold band on his ring finger.  “I may have wanted more than you were able to give.”  She reached out, grasping his left hand, holding it.  “Still,” she whispered.  “After almost losing you...I know I want to be part of your life.  Have you be part of mine.”

Though it was slight, she felt his fingers tighten around hers.  Maybe it was a reflex, but Michonne hoped it wasn’t.  She scooted in the seat, closer to him, then leaned in the high back chair, attempting to find sleep, all while not letting go.

. . . . . 

Daryl was awoken by the sound of rapid knocking at his door.  For a moment he thought it was Rick, as Rick was the only one to visit him at random hours like that.  Remembering it wasn’t, he got out of bed, lumbering to the door.  “Yeah, okay!” he called out.  He opened the door and--

Frowned, looking down to see it was Carl.

“Hey.  What are you doing up so early?”

“It’s eight o’clock,” Carl said simply.

“Yeah.  On a Saturday.  Hell, any way you slice it, that’s early.  What’s up?”

Carl looked away for a second, then back at Daryl.  “I need your help.”

“I gathered that.  What do you want?”

“I want to see my Dad,” Carl said simply.  “My mom won’t be up until eleven.  She always sleeps in on the weekend...I didn’t want to leave last night.  I want to be there when he wakes up.”

“Shouldn’t we just--”

“No.  We have to leave,” Carl demanded, brushing past Daryl, entering his home.

“Well come on in, why don’t ya?” Daryl said, closing the door.

“I’m waiting here for you to get dressed,” Carl said, plopping down on the couch.  “So go.  We’re running out of time.”

“Bossy thing, ain’t ya?  You and your mama, boy...”

“Daryl.”  Carl looked at him, imploringly. 

“What happens when your mom wakes up and you ain’t there?”

“I left her a note--said I was at Brian’s house.”

“Who’s Brian?”

“A friend.”

Daryl quirked an eyebrow.  “Oh.  He live in Canada or something?”  Daryl regretted the comment when Carl dropped his head.  “Just joking around.  Come on, I’ll take you.  Don’t know why you had to lie.”  Based off of Carl’s look, he added, “About where you were going, I mean.”

“My mom wanted me to wait.  I didn’t.”

“Okay.  I’ll get you there.  Come on.”  

Daryl headed for the door, Carl close behind him.

. . . . . 

It took some effort, but Rick was able to will his eyes to open.  He tried to turn, then instantly regretted it--his shoulder felt like it had been ripped apart and held together with a bandage. 

“Rick?”

Slowly, Rick turned his head towards the voice.  Michonne.  He looked at her and smiled.  “Hey,” he rasped.

Michonne squeezed his hand.  “How do you feel?”

“Like I was put through a blender, or something equally horrible.”  His eyes squint as he looked her over.  “How long was I here?”

“Since last night.”

“You were here the whole time?” he asked, surprised. 

“All night.”  Michonne smiled at him.  "Wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Rick looked around, noticing the empty room.

“Oh, everyone else was here, but the nurse sent them home.  Your sister, her husband, Carl--”

“Carl was here?”

“Yeah.  And Shane and Daryl.  Lori, too,” Michonne said, looking away.

“But the nurse let you stay?”

“No.  I just...snuck in when she wasn’t looking,” she admitted, sheepish.

Rick smiled at her.  “I’m glad you did.  I’m glad you’re okay.”

Michonne interlocked their fingers.  “I’m glad you’re okay, too.”

Rick stared into her eyes and felt as if he were drowning.  He thought to himself if she was willing to drown with him, then that’d be okay, too.


	16. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing like a hospital for a reunion...

Thanks to everyone who's taken the time to review.  You guys keep me and my Muse motivated ^_^

* * *

Lori couldn’t sleep.

She laid in bed all night, clutching Rick’s pillow.  Every argument they’d ever had just seemed equally meaningless and ridiculous.  She loved him--she did.  And the thought of never seeing him again had been sobering.

Still, she was thankful for the reprieve the nurse had given her--she wasn’t sure she would have been able to see him laid up in a hospital bed like that--broken and wounded...she wiped at her eyes, getting out of bed.

“It’s okay--he’ll be awake today.  He’ll be awake...” she muttered to herself, going to the bathroom.  After she showered and dressed, she went to Carl’s room.

“Carl!” she called.  “Let’s go see--”  She paused, seeing the note taped to his door about seeing a friend named Brian.  “Brian?” she said to herself, heading downstairs.  She was shocked--she thought after last night Carl would be up first thing to see his dad.  Shrugging it off, she got in the car and headed to the hospital.

. . . . .

Michonne leaned down, kissing Rick’s forehead.  He cupped her cheek with his right hand, gazing at her.

“Glad to see you.”  His voice was a rumble in his chest.  

Michonne leaned into his hand, her eyes closed.  “Glad to see you, too.”

Rick smiled.  “Kind of hard to see me with your eyes closed,” he joked. 

Michonne laughed, her eyes shining.

“You have a wonderful laugh,” he said, thumb caressing the apple of her cheek.

Michonne placed her hand over his, eyes wandering over the planes of his face.  She swallowed.  “Rick--”

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” the nurse said from behind him.  “I just need to check on things, and then Mr. Grimes has to have his breakfast.”

Michonne stepped back, allowing the nurse to work.

“Okay, Mr. Grimes.  We have some delicious breakfast for you--soft, scarmbled eggs and wheat toast.  You do get a choice though?”

“Oh?” Rick asked.  “What choice is that?

“I can help you eat it, or your lovely companion can,” the nurse said, winking at Michonne.

Rick smiled at Michonne.  “Well, that’s a no-brainer.”

. . . . . 

“Hey, slow down!” Daryl called out to him.  But Carl couldn’t stop--he just had to _run_.  His dad was going to be awake soon, and he had to be there.  

Carl rounded around the corner and headed to room 314.  Heart racing, he flung the door open and--

His dad was sitting up, awake, alert, with Michonne feeding him eggs.

“Dad!” Carl exclaimed, running towards the right side of the bed.  He paused at the side of the bed, not wanting to jostle his father. 

Tears in his eyes, Rick grabbed Carl’s hand.  “Hey, son.”  Gently, Carl hugged his dad, causing Rick to cry.

“Carl...”

Carl tried to be gentle, but he just wanted to hold his father.  “I was so scared,” he whispered.

“I’m so sorry, son.  I’m sorry.”

Both were so overjoyed at seeing each other, neither noticed Michonne quietly slip out.

. . . . . 

“You’re still here.”

Michonne gently closed the hospital room door and turned around at the sound of the voice--Daryl.

“Wearing the same clothes, too.”

Michonne looked at Daryl’s attire.  “I was here all night.  What’s your excuse?” she asked with an arch of her eyebrow.

Daryl laughed quietly.  “Rolled out of bed.  Literally.  The boy was at my door at eight in the morning.”

“And his mother?”

Daryl shrugged.  “Still in bed, I guess.”

Michonne shook her head in dismay.  “Rick’s here and she’s in bed...right.”

Daryl looked at her.  “So.  You were here all night.  All morning.  You gonna be here all day, too?”

“I want to make sure he’s good.”

“Mmm,” Daryl said, smirking.  “He’s awake, right?”

“He is.”

“But you wanna make sure he stays that way?”

Michonne frowned.  

“I’m just messing with you,” Daryl said with a smile.

“Oh,” Michonne said, looking away.

“Do you work?”

“Yeah.  I run my own art gallery.  Making my own hours is convenient about now.”

Daryl nodded in appreciation.  “Look at you--entrepreneur.”

“What do you do?” Michonne asked, not having the foggiest idea what Daryl might do for work.

Daryl leaned against the wall, bare, muscled arms crossed.  “I’m an entrepreneur, too.”

“That right?” Michonne asked, trying not to smile, and take him seriously.

Daryl shrugged.  “I know how it sounds, but I am.  Ever hear of Dixon Drives?”

Michonne looked at him curiously.  “Yeah.  My brother-in-law is the manager there.”

“Well, I’m Daryl Dixon.”

Michonne peered at him.  “ _You_ own Dixon Drives?”

“I was always good at tricking out cars and bikes.  No better way to spend my time.  Abraham’s your brother-in-law?” he asked, curiously.  Michonne nodded.  “Huh.  Small world.  Never would have guessed that.”

Yeah,” Michonne said.  “Small world.”

“Daryl?”

Daryl leaned over Michonne and saw Lori.  “Oh.  Hey.” 

Michonne looked over her shoulder and gave an uneasy smile.  “Hello.”

Lori looked surprised to see them there, particularly Michonne.  “I’m sorry, Madison?”

“Michonne,” she corrected.

“I’m bad with names,” Lori said with a chuckle.  “Thanks again, really.”

“He’s awake,” Daryl said, glancing between the two of them.  “Carl’s in there.”

“Wait, Carl?”

“He asked me to bring him.  You should probably go in, now, since you haven’t seen him yet.”

Lori bristled, but didn’t comment on the remark.  Instead, she gave a small smile to Michonne and headed in.

“Wasn’t expecting her,” Daryl muttered, picking at his fingernail.

“It’s reasonable.  She is his wife,” Michonne said, staring at the closed door.


	17. Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick is released...

_Note: Okay. I know I've been doing little updates every day/every other day, but...this one? I had to do it all in one go. It's a doozy, so buckle on in...just buckle on in..._

_Then drop reviews/reblogs, please, cause they give me life and stuff. But_ _if it sucks, just tell me. If it's sudden, tell me that too. I love compliments like anyone else, but...please keep it one hundred. I can take it. *takes a deep breath*_

* * *

"I'm sorry I scared you," Rick said, holding Carl's hand.

Carl shrugged. "You're a hero, Dad. I just...I just want you to be safe."

"Yeah. I know."

"Rick?"

Rick turned, seeing Lori emerge from the shadows by the door. He looked around the room, seeing Michonne was gone. He frowned.

"You're okay!" Lori said, rushing forth.

"I am."

Lori hugged him lightly, and kissed his cheek. "How do you feel?"

"Like I got shot," Rick deadpanned.

"Carl? Give us a minute, honey," she said, eyes on Rick.

Carl sighed in exasperation. "You have got to be kidding me. Really?"

"Yes, really. I need to talk to your dad."

Carl stormed out, muttering to himself about how everything sucked.

Lori sat on the edge of the bed, taking Rick's hand. "I'm so sorry. About everything." She paused, looking at him. Rick just stared at her, his face devoid of any emotion. "I saw a divorce lawyer last night."

Rick sat up at that. "You what?"

"I didn't...I didn't think the counseling was working. I didn't think things would ever change, and...then this happened. And everything we ever fought about just felt childish and stupid." Lori twisted his wedding band around, opting to look at that than at him. "I wasn't really trying, I don't think," she whispered. She looked at him then. "And I am sorry. Truly. But this...nearly losing you-I still love you. I know it. But I don't want to just throw us away, Rick. I don't. Not anymore."

Rick sighed, looking away, brow furrowed. He didn't know what to think; he didn't know what to feel. "I can't talk about this right now. This isn't...this isn't fair, dropping that on me."

"That I love you?"

Rick turned to her. "That while I was getting shot, you were drawing up divorce papers."

"I wasn't, we only talked about-"

"It doesn't matter. I'm not even upset about that."

"Then what are you upset about?" Lori asked, genuinely wanting to know.

"I don't know, Lori. I don't know..."

. . .

Michonne and Daryl watched Carl quietly fume.

"Are you alright?" she asked him.

" _No_. It's not fair," Carl said, fists clenched. "I got here early to talk to him, and she just..." Carl shook his head, slouching back in his seat.

"She had some things she had to talk to him about. You'll see him soon enough." When he saw that Carl was clearly not placated, he added, "I'm gonna go take a leak."

Michonne focused on Carl, studying him. He clearly cared about his dad a great deal. "So Carl. Do you like comic books?"

Carl perked up a bit at that. "Yeah. Why?"

"Well. I run an art gallery, and next week, there's going to be an exhibit with some original comic art. Would you like to come see it?"

"Really?"

"Yeah. My nephew, Noah, it was his idea. He's about your age. If you come next Saturday, you'll get to meet him."

Carl gave a smile at that. "Yeah. I'm in. Maybe I can get my dad to bring me."

Michonne smiled. Her eyes drifted to the closed door, and she exhaled, standing.

"Where are you going?" Carl asked.

"Home. Change. Maybe get some sleep. Tell Daryl I said bye." She started to walk away, then turned back to him. "And I look forward to seeing you next week," she said with a wink.

Carl smiled. "Totally."

Michonne left, ignoring the sensation of unease in her chest.

. . .

Rick was alone.

He laid in his hospital bed, thinking about Lori; thinking about Michonne. One he wanted there, with him, and the other...

Lori had said the word divorce not once, but twice, going as far as to have a sit down with a lawyer about it. Rick scoffed to himself. Carol had been right. He and Lori had parted ways some time ago. His near death experience was _not_ a reason to stick around. Then he thought about Carl...

Rick exhaled, unsure of what to do.

He flipped through the channels and landed on the news. He looked at the time - 10:03PM. His jaw ticked, then he picked up the phone...

. . .

Michonne, sprawled out in bed, turned her head as her phone buzzed on her nightstand. She rolled over and grabbed it. Unknown number, but local area code. She answered it.

"Hello?"

_"Michonne...hey."_

Michonne swallowed. "Rick. Hey."

 _"So, where'd you go?"_ His voice was steady, but uncertain.

"Had to go home at some point, right?"

 _"Right."_ A beat. _"Will you be back?"_

Michonne sighed into the phone.

_"Okay. I'll be out by Wednesday. I hope to see you before then."_

"Rick-"

_"Michonne, I-"_

"You will," she interrupted. "You'll see me before then. Okay?"

_"You sure?"_

"Well, who else is going to spoon feed you soft scrambled eggs?"

Rick laughed. _"Good. I'm glad. Lunch and dinner was kind of ruined without you being there."_

"I'm sure it'll be better tomorrow," she said with a secretive smile.

_"Yeah?"_

"Yeah."

. . .

"Michonne, I don't like this."

Sasha's tone wiped the dreamy smile right off of Michonne's face. "Don't like what?" she asked, confused.

"This. _You_. You've been to that hospital the last three days."

"To make sure he's okay."

"He's doing _fine_. Hell, that was even on the news. But you gotta stop doing this to yourself."

Michonne's eyes narrowed. "Doing _what_?"

Sasha sat down across from her sister at the kitchen table. Michonne had stopped by after her visit with Rick, who apparently had adorable curls when he let his hair grow out. Michonne hadn't even realized she'd been gushing until Sasha brought her back to reality.

"Acting like some teenage girl, waxing poetic about his eyes and hair, going to see him everyday."

"I wasn't...I was _not_ waxing poetic," Michonne said firmly. "I was just giving you pertinent details."

"Mmmhmm," Sasha said. "Look...it was different, a few months ago. But now-"

"What's changed?" Michonne asked. Sasha was silent at that. "And that's not why...that wasn't the only reason. We have a connection. I accept that. And we haven't done anything, so who cares?"

"Michonne, you are so wrapped in your feelings that you can't even _see_ straight."

Michonne stood up, grabbing her purse. "I can see just fine, thanks." She turned to leave.

"And what happens when he's done? What then?"

Michonne thought about turning to look at her sister, but she didn't. Instead, she walked out, head held high. She wasn't entirely sure what was happening with Rick, but there was one thing she was certain of:

He wasn't going anywhere, and neither was she.

. . .

"Thanks for coming to get me," Rick said over his shoulder to Shane, who was pushing him to the exit doors.

"Yeah...feel like I'm carting around Miss Daisy, though," he grumbled.

Rick chuckled. "Sorry to inconvenience you."

Shane scoffed. "No you're not."

Rick shrugged, then instantly regretted it, wincing. "No, I'm not."

"Take it easy there, will ya?"

"I am. And why do I need a wheelchair anyway? I wasn't shot in the leg. A sling would have made more sense."

"Yeah, well, you weren't shot in the arm, either." Shane paused, walking around Rick to open the car door. "You sure you're up for this man?"

Rick got out of the wheelchair with ease. "Yeah. I need to see what went wrong."

The car ride to the station started out quiet, seventies rock playing quietly on the radio. Then-

"How was it?" Shane asked.

Rick looked over at him. "How was what?"

"Juggling visits between Lori and Michonne at the hospital."

Rick rolled his eyes. "I did not-"

"Oh _yes_ you did."

Rick sighed, rubbing his thumb rapidly over his middle and forefinger. "Michonne's an early bird. Came in the mornings. Lori would come by with Carl in the late afternoons."

"She still talking staying together?"

"Yeah," Rick said quietly. "I don't...I don't know how to feel about that. Part of me wants to try for Carl. And I've known Lori for over half my life. And I do love her. I'll always love her, you know?" He looked at Shane, helplessness written all over his face.

"But?" Shane prodded.

"There's...there's something with Michonne. I don't know what, but I want to find out."

"She is a hot number," Shane joked. Rick glared at him. "Oh good, you're territorial already. Just a joke, man." He looked at Rick. "She was there for you, literally. Saved your life, and stayed with you all night." Shane looked back at the road. "She has my respect. But Lori's family. She'll always _be_ family. You two getting separated or whatever won't change that. You'll still be Carl's mom and dad. You two are bound for life."

. . .

Rick walked into the station with the sound of uproarious applause surrounding him. Everyone cheered his triumphant return. Though he felt mildly embarrassed, he smiled, waving a little.

"Alright Miss America, let's go to your office," Shane said over the claps and whistles in Rick's ear. Rick laughed, following behind him.

"Thanks everyone! Appreciate your support," Rick said before going inside.

"Hey, Tyrese!" Shane called out, waving the officer in. Shane closed the office doors behind him.

"Rick, good to see you back," Tyrese said, shaking Rick's hand.

"Not back yet, Ty. In fact...truth be told I'm going to take a little LOA. Just a couple of weeks, though."

"Sorry to hear that, man."

Shane slapped Tyrese on the shoulder. "Come on, now. You know he can't stay away from this place for too long."

Tyrese chuckled, sitting down. He opened up a mini laptop, pulled something up, then spun it around so that it was facing Rick. "You sure you want to see this?"

Rick took in a deep breath, and pressed play. The video started from where they were knocked out of the window. Rick felt as if he was watching someone else; a movie. He watched himself get sloppy; move too slow. He winced, looking away once the shot fired. The tape was silent, but Rick remembered; he could still hear the loud pop it made.

"Want me to stop it?" Shane asked.

Rick shook his head, the whites of his knuckles showing as he grit his teeth and clenched his fist.

Until he saw Michonne.

She snuck up behind the gunman with such grace and ease, dispatching him as if he were nothing. Rick scrolled back, watching it again. And again. And another time. And-

"Hey, did you commit it to memory yet?" Shane asked, half joking, half concerned about what Rick was doing.

"Keys," Rick muttered.

"What?"

"Keys. Give me your keys," Rick said, looking at Shane.

"What are you talking about, man?"

"Pretty sure he wants your keys," Tyrese said. Shane cut his eyes at him, then turned back to Rick.

"What are you gonna do?"

Rick held out his hand in response, standing from his desk chair.

"That some sort of zen non answer?" Shane shook his head, reaching into his pocket, pulling out the car keys. "Where are you gonna go?"

Rick brushed past Shane, leaving the office door wide open behind him.

"Damn it," Shane said under his breath.

"Of all the scenarios I could have seen, that wasn't one of them. Was he pissed off or traumatized?" Tyrese asked.

Shane stood in the doorway, watching as his friend stormed off.

"No clue, man. No clue..."

. . .

Rick tried his best not to speed down the streets, and failed miserably. He had to go see her. He couldn't explain why or rationalize it, but there it was, all the same.

Rick decided to not fight against the tide.

_'Not this time.'_

. . .

Michonne slipped off her shoes at the front door, then padded to the kitchen, putting down the bag of groceries. She sighed, looking at the single bag, still not used to buying just for herself again. She faltered a second, pulling out the almond milk out of the bag, took a deep breath then kept going. She wanted to finish her errands quickly today, as Rick was supposed to be released, and she wanted to know how he was fairing. A quick knock at her door yanked her out of her reverie. She left the kitchen, heading to the door and looked through the peephole. It was Rick, plain clothes in a denim button down and jeans, five o'clock shadow complimenting his handsome face. Surprised, yet confused, she opened the door.

"Rick, what are you..." She trailed off at the look in his eyes. She couldn't quite put a name to it, but it was intense; she could feel it penetrate to her bones. Internally, she shivered. "Rick?"

Slowly, he walked over the threshold, eyes traveling over body, inch by agonizing inch. Michonne's breath quickened from the intensity of his gaze. Slowly, she backed away, allowing him further into her home.

He looked at her face, into her eyes. He stopped moving. "Are you frightened? Of me?" he asked quietly.

Michonne shook her head. "Of you? No. I just...I don't want to _make_ something happen."

"Something's _been_ happening. Hasn't it?" He stared at her, his eyes pleading. "Tell me I'm not...tell me I'm not alone."

Michonne felt tears spring to her eyes, but she didn't look away. "You're not," she whispered.

Rick exhaled in relief, then walked up to her. Gently, he cupped her face, and gave her a kiss that tasted like adoration and devotion. Passion. Love.

Michonne felt herself slip away, giving into something she could no longer deny...


	18. Wrecked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is more interlude than chapter, but, I thought this deserved its own thing. The styling is...I don’t know, kind of reads like a poem, but that’s how it came out, so I rolled with it.

_She had said she would come._

_And he believed her; he did.  He only stared at the clock because he wanted out of that hospital--he wanted to be mobile and go where he wanted when he wanted.  Rick wasn’t used to taking orders, and being in a hospital bed did not suit him at all._

_“How’s the patient this morning?”_

_Like a wilting flower that rejuvenates with a bit of water, Rick perked up at the sound of her voice.  He watched her enter the room, a smile on his face.  “Hey.  Better, now.”_

_“Told you I’d come,” she said, holding something behind her back.  
_

_“What are you hiding?” he asked with a tilt of his head.  
_

_She smiled, walking closer to him.  She handed him a red bar--a Big Cat.  “Your family brought you flowers and balloons, but no one’s brought you chocolate,” she explained.  
_

_“Thank you,” he said, playing with the bar in his hands.  
_

_“Aah.  No trouble.”  She sat on the side of the bed, caressing his curls back for no other reason than that they were there.  When she saw he was about to open it, she placed her hand on top of his.  “Excuse me, but a candy bar is not a breakfast food.”  
_

_“Didn’t you bring that for me?” Rick asked, his tone teasing._

_Michonne half smirked and half smiled at him.  “I did.  As a treat--not as a way to deter you from the path of the breakfast of champions.”_

_Rick chuckled.  “Fine, have it your way.”_

_“You’ll get used to it,” Michonne joked.  
_

_“I will?” Rick asked quietly, staring at her intently.  Michonne stared back, unsure of how to answer.  
_

_“Soup’s on!” the nurse yelled, entering the room with a tray.  Michonne got off the bed, letting the nurse set up, secretly thankful for the reprieve from the serious turn the conversation had veered in._

_Right now, it was easy.  She wanted to be around him; he wanted to be around her.  That’s all there was to it._

. . . 

Rick moaned into her mouth, hands gravitating to her waist, pulling her closer to him.  She draped her arms over his shoulders, tangling her fingers in his curls.  His hands, soft but firm, roamed over her body, exploring her through her clothing, making her shudder.

_‘You’re so wrapped in your feelings, you can’t even see straight.’_

Michonne pulled back, hearing Sasha’s voice in her head.  She stared into his eyes.  All she could see was him.  

He held her to him, pressing his length to her.  His hooded lids drifted from her eyes to her mouth and back again.  “Michonne...”

Michonne wasn’t sure if it was a question or a plea.  The only thing she was certain of was that the answer was yes.

. . .

If love had a taste, Rick could swear he found it on her lips.  She was laid back on her bed, her hair spread around her like an angel.  Her skin was so smooth, her moans ever tantalizing, and her taste was ambrosia.  Perfection personified.  Rick climbed up her body, her arms open and legs parted, welcoming him.  He stared into her eyes as he entered her, destroying who he was, only to become.  She arched back, mouth agape, tears springing to her eyes as he sunk fully into her.  He paused, marveling in her beauty.  He groaned low in his throat, slowly moving.

“Goddess,” he whispered.

Her hands found their way back to his hair, using his locks to guide his face to her, kissing him deeply.  She whimpered when he pulled out, and gasped when he came back.  He didn’t think he’d get over how she felt.  Resting his weight on his right arm, forehead against hers, her legs wrapped around him, they undulated together, cementing what they had; forging a path to what they would become.

. . .

“Michonne...”

He said her name as if it were a prayer as he moved within her.  her eyes glistened as she convulsed deep within, clutching him.  She shook, eyes shut tight, gasping.  He caressed her face, kissed her, and drove himself deeply within her, meeting her on the other side, feeling a peace he had never felt before.


	19. Smashed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where do we go...from here?

Thanks to everyone who took the time to review. I cannot tell you what it means to me ^_^

* * *

_"Wait..." Rick halted the coroner before he zipped up the black bag. Eyes misting a bit, he gently closed the boy's eyes with a brush of his fingers. Rick nodded at the man, and he finished pulling the zipper up._

_"I don't know what happened. I don't know..."_

_The father had been saying some variant of the phrase since they arrived on the scene. Rick figured the man was in shock, but had not one ounce of sympathy for him. He was responsible for this-the death of his son. Rick turned and saw a collection of photos on the wall-various photos of the little boy, some with his father, and several with his mother. She wasn't looking at the camera in any of the photos-she was too busy looking at her son, smiling a brilliant smile. He idly wondered to himself how her face would look now, losing the one person who had brought her such joy.  
_

_"Take him out," he said to his deputies. As they began to cuff him, Rick wandered outside in a mild daze. He needed fresh air. He needed...  
_

_He saw her, running towards the gurney. He shot his arm out, hooking around her waist, pulling her backward. "Ma'am, you don't wanna do that," he whispered._

_"What's happening? What_ happened _!" she yelled in a panic._

_"Are you Ms. Logan?" he asked, already knowing the answer. He was just attempting to draw her attention. "Hey-are you Michonne Logan?" She struggled against him, and Rick tightened his hold. He couldn't let her see her boy like that; he just couldn't._

_"Mike! Where's Andre? Where is my_ son _?" she screamed._

_Rick felt tears pinprick his eyes. "I'm so sorry, Ms. Logan. I'm sorry to tell you that-"_

_She collapsed in his arms, releasing a death wail. Rick saw flashes of the little boy before his eyes, and he shut them tight, willing them away. He held her, whispering over and over how sorry he was, wishing like hell he could take the day back for her..._

_. . ._

Rick let his fingers trail lightly down her arm. She was lying on her side, facing away from him.

"Michonne?" he called out. Slowly she turned around, looking at him, searching his face. He recognized it for what it was-she was afraid. Her eyes were dewy as if she had been crying. His eyes were soft as he gazed at her, brushing her hair away from her face.

"Hey. I'm still here. I'm still with you."

"But for how long?" she asked, her voice just below a whisper.

"Hey, come here," he said, wrapping his arms around her, holding her close. "I'm not going anywhere. I know it won't be simple. It won't be easy."

"It'll be a fight."

"Yeah," he agreed. "It will. But we'll win. You and me. You have to know something..." He pulled back, so that she could see his face. "My wife and I...we've been glorified roommates the last several months. Waking up in that hospital made me realize what I want. Seeing how you protected me..." He trailed off, gently kissing her lips. "I want to be with _you_." He took her hand, kissing it.

Michonne exhaled. "Whatever happens...we're in this together. I'm betting on you, Rick."

"Bet on _us_ ," he countered.

She bit her lip, caressing his torso. Then she leaned over and kissed him, and for another hour, they forgot about the rest of the world.

. . .

"Jesus, I'm hungry," he said, stepping into the sunshine. Michonne smiled, closing the door to her apartment building. "Are you hungry?" he asked, reaching for her hand.

"As a matter of fact-"

"Sheriff Grimes, you are a hard man to catch up to!" a man exclaimed. Rick turned to his right, and saw a man dressed in a suit, holding a mic and extending his hand, with a cameraman at the ready behind him. "Saw you leave the station pretty quick but...Pleasure to meet you."

"What is this?" Rick asked, though it bordered on being a hiss.

The man held his hands up, as if surrendering. "I'm Paul Rovia from _Roaming Rovia_ on WSB-TV. I just had a couple of questions for you. About the robbery," he clarified, glancing behind Rick at Michonne.

Rick glanced back at her. She shrugged. "Okay. What is it?"

"Eugene, you ready?" Paul asked the cameraman.

"Good to go," Eugene said with a thumbs up.

Paul cleared his throat. "I'm standing here with Sheriff Grimes-an officer of the law, a husband, a father, and now, a local hero. What made you decide to stop that gunman?" Paul asked, holding the mic in Rick's face.

He shrugged. "I don't know, I just...I saw his finger on the trigger. A man doesn't do that unless he's ready to shoot someone. There were civilians in there-someone I cared about...I just couldn't let it go down like that."

"But you were shot in the process," Paul countered.

"I was," Rick agreed. "But better me than..." Rick trailed off, realizing what he was saying. "It was the right thing to do. Plain and simple. You don't think in a situation like that. You just act."

"Well, we certainly thank you for your efforts, Officer Grimes," Paul said with enthusiasm.

"I wasn't the only hero that day," Rick added. "The gunman ultimately wasn't taken down by me. My uh, partner here, Michonne, saved my life," he said, looking back at her, gratitude and adoration written on his face.

"Cut, cut it Eugene," Paul said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry, Sheriff Grimes, but this piece is to focus on you and you alone."

Rick cocked his head at that. "Even though I wasn't the only one there?"

"You're the hero who almost died, trying to do what's right. That's what people want to hear about. No offense, ma'am," Paul said, looking over at Michonne.

"None taken," she said, heading down the walkway.

"Anyway," Paul continued. "We can use the footage we have, cut that last bit. Really sir, it was truly an honor," he said, holding out his hand.

After staring at him a beat, grudgingly, Rick shook it. "Yeah. Thanks."

"Eugene-quick reset so I can add my closing notes."

Rick started to walk away, heading to the car and Michonne, but he looked over his shoulder, wondering what the closing notes might be. He stared at Paul who stared at the camera, rubbing his fingers together.

"Rick?"

Rick continued to stare, thinking.

"You...are you worried?" she asked.

Rick turned to her then, shrugging the feeling off. "No. I'm good. Let's go eat."


	20. Destruct

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reality sinks in...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for the reviews, guys! Someone asked if I write original fic. I do. If you're looking for a "What if I met my favorite celeb?" rom com type of thing, check out Fangirl. If you're looking for dark, action/adventure super hero type of thing, check out The Good Soldier ;)
> 
> http://www.amazon.com/Jill-Robi/e/B008ZR0CCG

 

Rick put his card in the checkbook, then reached across the table, taking Michonne's hand. He paused, thinking...

Remembering.

_Rick!_

"Rick?"

_Come back..._

He blinked, staring at her. "You were there," he whispered.

She frowned, confused. "I was where?"

"The ambulance. Were you there?"

"I was," she murmured.

He squeezed her hand. "You called my name?"

"More like screamed it," she said, looking away.

"I heard you. I could feel it...feel myself slipping. But then I heard your voice. It was you. You brought me back."

Michonne's head snapped up that, peering at him. "I needed you here." She interlocked their fingers.

Rick smiled.

. . .

Rick opened the car door for her, closing it after she sat down. She unlocked his door, opening it a bit for him. Rick got in, looked over at her and smiled. They held hands as he drove, all the way back to Michonne's.

Rick parked, and they both sat, quietly. Gently, Michonne let go of his hand.

"I suppose it wouldn't be fair to ask when you'll be back," she said.

"I have to see my family-my son. He doesn't know I've been released."

Michonne nodded. She looked at him, her face calm. "And your wife?"

"Michonne-"

"I know what was said, in the afterglow...but we have to be realistic. You have a family. A son," she said gently.

"My being with you won't affect my being with my son."

"Won't it?" Michonne asked, skeptical.

"Lori's...she's said some things, but...I don't believe she'd be that vindictive. We'll have joint custody. She'll understand."

Michonne scoffed. "A woman scorned is a powerful force, Rick. Listen, I know you said you two were basically roommates, but...are you sure nothing's changed? Does she want to work it out, or..."

Rick grimaced, gripping the steering wheel. "She does."

Michonne gave a shuddering sigh, working up the courage to what she was about to say next. "Are you sure you don't?"

Rick jerked around, looking at her. "I told you. I made my choice. I choose you."

Michonne put her pointer finger up, starting to say something, pausing, then started again. "Wait."

"Wait for what?" he asked.

Michonne looked at him. "Go home. Wait until you see her. I want you to be sure. I _need_ you to be sure." She exhaled, then hurried out of the car.

"Michonne!" he called out, but she kept going, not looking back.

. . .

Michonne was shocked when she saw Sasha and Maggie at her door. She had completely forgotten about their plans to meet and hang out. They had made it a ritual weeks ago, as a way to check on her, Michonne suspected, but also as a way to spend quality time. Except today, Michonne had just made love to Rick. Then fled from him. She had planned to keep it to herself, but suddenly, she couldn't.

She told them everything.

"Michonne..." Sasha gave an exasperated sigh. "I told you to stay away from that married man."

"Mmm. _Handsome_ married man," Maggie added, popping a grape in her mouth. She was lounging on the couch, sitting next to a weary Michonne. Sasha stood, pacing, too agitated to sit.

Sasha frowned at Maggie, then turned back to Michonne. "You let that man seduce you?" Sasha cocked her head, staring at her sister in disbelief.

"He did _not_ seduce-"

"Oh _yes_ he did," Sasha said. "Did you at least use protection?"

Michonne looked away.

Maggie glanced between the two sisters, then settled on Michonne. "Oh, honey."

"Michonne!" Sasha yelled.

Michonne shrugged, attempting to be nonchalant. "Pretty sure he doesn't have anything."

"That's _not_ the only thing to worry about."

Michonne stared at Sasha. "I'm not."

"What?"

"I'm not..concerned. I'm not worried about that. Whatever happens-"

"He's married," Sasha said sternly.

"You think I don't know that?" Michonne shouted. Elbows on her knees, she dropped her head in her hands.

Maggie placed a comforting hand on Michonne's back. "Michonne...you can't do this to yourself. The consequences-"

"What consequences could be worse than what I've already been through?" she asked, looking at both of them. "There is _nothing_ worse than..." Tears sprung to her eyes, but she quelled them. "What's wrong with a bit of happiness?" she asked quietly.

Sasha knelt before her, taking her hand. "I want things to work out for you. Can't you see that?" She shook her head. "He's a good man, I know that. But where is he now?"

Michonne squeezed Sasha's hand, swallowing. "I was selfish. I told him to go home to his family."

"To his wife," Maggie corrected. Michonne nodded. "Did he say he wanted to be with you? That he would walk away?"

"He did," Michonne said solemnly, looking at Maggie.

Maggie sat back, face set. "Let him."

Sasha looked at her in surprise. "What?"

"They want to be together, so they should. Well, keep being together. If he's really ready to risk that, take on the judgement that will come with leaving his wife, especially as the Sheriff...Let him."

Michonne and Sasha looked at Maggie, stunned.

"I know that sounds strange, coming from me. Hell, I'm married. But I'm also happy. And in love. I was lucky enough to find who I was supposed to be with sooner rather than later. Michonne and Rick just happened to find each other later. It's no one's fault. But they shouldn't have to suffer for it, either." Maggie stared carefully at Michonne. "He can make his own decisions. The burden's not on you. If he's man enough to take that leap, take that leap with him, Michonne. Don't wait. Take the chance."

Sasha sat back, feeling confused, and defeated. Maggie hugged Michonne tightly, hoping to give her strength, letting her know that she was with her.

. . .

Rick sat there in the car, hands at ten and two. He hit the steering wheel once, twice, three times. He looked at the time-it was almost three o'clock. Lori would be on her way to the school to pick up Carl. Neither of them knew he'd been released from the hospital. Rick sighed, putting the car in drive, heading to school to meet with his family.

He drove, feeling confused. He knew with certainty he wanted to be with Michonne-of that he had no doubt. But she had been right-how would this work out for Carl? Lori had mentioned taking him away a few months ago, but Rick didn't believe she would really do that.

_You sure about that?_

Rick rolled his eyes in annoyance.

He couldn't leave Carl, and he didn't want to be with Lori. Not like that; not anymore. He just had to figure out how he would make that work.


	21. Contingency

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We now go to plan B...

**A/N: Okay, so like...y’all asked, and I’ve answered.  This is the longest chapter I’ve written.  Like, epically long. ~~Not sure if that’s a real word or spelled right, but~~  Please drop a review ;)  Especially if you haven’t before.  Let me know what’s up!**

 

  


 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

_“Time will see us realign..Come run away with me...”_  Deftones, “Diamond Eyes”

. . . . . . 

Rick pulled up to the school, and saw Lori out there, standing by the fence, waiting on Carl. He parked, took a deep breath, and got out. Quietly, he walked up behind her, tapping her on the shoulder.

“Hey.”

Lori turned, hands to her mouth in disbelief.  “Rick,” she said, flinging herself into his arms.  Rick grimaced, letting her go.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, at not hugging her back.

“Oh my god, no.   _I’m_  sorry,” she said.  “I forgot.  Why are you out so early?”

“Was going crazy in there...I’m well enough.  Had Shane come get me.”

Lori picked some invisible lint off of his shirt.  “Just don’t over-exert yourself, okay?”

“I won’t,” Rick said, looking away.  “Listen...was wondering if you’d be okay with my taking Carl.  We won’t be out late.  Just wanted some father-son time.”

“Oh, of course.  I know Carl will love that.  I’ll see you two later at home, then,” she said with a smile, squeezing his hand.

Rick watched her walk away, wondering what she would say...what she would do once things changed.

. . .

“I’m so glad you’re out, Dad,” Carl said, smiling at Rick from the passenger seat.  “I was hoping you’d be out in time.

“In time for what?” Rick asked.

“Michonne runs an art gallery, and there’s going to be this comic exhibit.  I thought it’d be fun to go.”

Rick glanced at his son, a small smile on his face.  “Yeah.  We can do that.  When is it?”

“Saturday.”

“Okay.  Done deal.”

Rick pulled up in front of the station, and saw Daryl sitting on the steps, smoking a cigarette.  “Hang on, Carl,” Rick said, parking and getting out of the car.

“Daryl.  What are you doing here?”

Daryl stood, looking annoyed.  “Shane said you fled.  Didn’t know where you went.  Thought we were gonna have to form a damn search party,” he said, flicking his cigarette away.  Rick stopped himself from commenting on the littering. 

“Well, I’m fine.  Was bringing back the car, but...maybe you and Shane should come with us.”

“Us?”

Daryl leaned down, seeing Carl in the car.  “Oh.  Hey Carl.”

“Hey, Daryl.”

“Where you two goin’ anyway?” Daryl asked.

“Taking Carl to the arcade.  And...wanted to run something past you.  Both of you.”

“Alright.  I’ll go grab Shane.”

. . .

“Holy shit, you got laid.  First day out of the hospital and our boy is getting some.  You and Lori made up?”

Rick, Shane and Daryl were sitting at table, while Carl played Mortal Kombat on the other side of the arcade.

“Nah,” Daryl said.  “Wasn’t Lori...Was it Rick?”

Shane looked downright stunned.  “Is that where you ran off to?  Well hell, you know what they say--”

“Don’t,” Daryl cut in.

“Once you go--”

“Don’t,” Rick and Daryl said in unison.

“I’m not talking about her like that.  We’re not in high school,” Rick said.

“It’s not an age thing, or in Shane’s case, a maturity thing,” Daryl said.

“Hey--”

“You care,” Daryl finished, as if Shane hadn’t said anything.

Rick stared at him--both of them.  “Yeah...Yeah, she’s...”  He smiled to himself.

Daryl leaned back in his seat.  “Damn, man.”

“That good, huh?” Shane asked.

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

Shane shrugged.  “Nope.

“Lori told me back at the hospital...she talked to a divorce lawyer.”

“It’s really over then,” Shane said.

“She’s trying to back out of it now, but...I think it’s time I talked to one, too.  I have to.  I can’t...can’t do this to either of them.  Gotta make it right.”

“Not sure how Lori will see you divorcing her as making it right, but, I get it.  Know who you can talk to,” Daryl said.

Rick stared at him, mouth agape.  “There has to be someone else.”

“I’m sure there is, but, he’s good.  Really good.  Take care of things for ya.”

Rick sighed, looking over at Carl.  “Yeah.  Give him a call.  Set it up.”

. . .

“Hey.  You have fun, sweetie?” Lori asked as Rick and Carl came through the door.  

Carl nodded.  “Yeah.  Dad took me to this arcade with Shane and Daryl.”

Lori cocked her head at Rick, curious.  “Oh.  They were there, too?” 

Rick shrugged.  “Well, we still had Shane’s car and...just decided to make it a boy’s day.  Reunite the band,” he said with a smile.

Lori nodded, though she looked a bit suspicious.

 _‘Or maybe it’s all in your head,’_ Rick thought.

“They wanted to give me a proper homecoming, but, I told them not tonight.”

Lori smiled at that.  “Carl, honey, why don’t you go upstairs and get cleaned up for dinner?”

“Okay.”  Carl sprinted up the stairs, still on a chocolate shake high.

“I’m glad you’re home,” Lori said, stepping closer to him.  Rick nodded, stepping sideways, then up the stairs as well.

“Gonna go wash up for dinner,” Rick called out.

Rick closed the bathroom door behind him and locked it.  He was feeling paranoid--as if Lori could smell Michonne on him...

_‘If she had, she would have said something by now.’_

Rick sniffed his shirt--he could still smell her.  He closed his eyes, visualizing Michonne...then snapped himself out of it, splashing water on his face.  Turning the sink faucet on, he stepped into the tub, sitting down, and pulled out his cell.

“Michonne, hey,” he said, his voice softening.

 _“Rick,”_ she said simply, waiting for him to talk.

“Listen...uh...” Rick shut his eyes tight, his brow crinkling.  “Even though you were right, you were also wrong,” he finally said.

_“What?”_

“I do have to figure out my family situation.  Figure it out where I don’t lose my son.”  Rick made a face at himself, angry at his choice of words.  “I don’t want her to get full custody,” he amended.

 _“I understand,”_ she said, her voice sad.

“No, no, you don’t.  Sweetheart...I’m going to talk to a divorce lawyer before the weekend is up.  Already know the guy.  But I do have to stay here in the meantime, keep up pretenses.”  He paused, waiting for her to say something.  She didn’t.  “Michonne?”

 _“Yeah,”_ she said, sounding tired. _“The plan is you stay home, act like everything’s the same until you can get the terms of the divorce settled.”_

“Right.  But I’m gonna keep my distance.  That I promise,” he said.

 _“You don’t have to make promises to me, Rick.”_ She didn’t say it with any malice, but he knew she was hurt.  He knew it.

“You’re right, I don’t,” he said solemnly.  “The thing is, I want to.  You have my word, Michonne,” he said quietly.  “Sweetheart?”

 _“...Okay.  Okay Rick,”_ she said.  His heart broke for her; he could hear the tears in her voice.  He detested that he was the cause of it.  

“Carl told me about the event at the gallery.  We’ll be there,” he said.  “And...” he sighed.  “I’m going to try my best to see you before then.  Sneak away.  But if I can’t, please know I’m thinking of you.”

 _“Yeah,”_ she said curtly.   _“I gotta go.  My sister and my friend are here.  Bye,”_ she said, hanging up before he could respond.

“See ya,” he said, putting the phone down.  He rested his head back against the tub, wondering how he could fix this.

. . . 

Michonne hung up the phone, attempting to control her breathing.  She couldn’t.  She wiped the tears from her face, hating herself for being so emotional and needy.

_‘He’s trying...he’ll come through.  You’ll see him Saturday, if not before.’_

Michonne longed to make herself believe it.

. . .

Rick put on his pajamas, dreading going into that bedroom.  He was trying to find a way out of it--sharing a bed with Lori--and failing miserably.  Nothing was coming to him.   _Nothing._ But then--

“Lori, I was thinking...maybe, maybe I should sleep in the guest bedroom,” he said.

Lori frowned at him.  “Why?  It’s your first night back.”  

“Yeah, but...I tore some stitches earlier, driving--over exertion--and I don’t want to be jostled around in bed, ya know?”  He tried to look at pathetic as possible.  It must have worked, because Lori looked at him sympathetically, nodding.

“Okay, Rick.  We’ll keep a close eye on that,” she said, glancing at his shoulder.

“Thanks.  Goodnight,” he said, turning to leave.

“Rick--”  Lori walked over to him, hugging him gingerly.  He lightly pat her on the back, and froze when she kissed his cheek.  “Goodnight,” she said, smiling at him.

Rick shuffled out of the room, careful not to look eager at the prospect of escape.  He lay in the full-size bed that night, amazed that he couldn't wait to see Merle of all people.

. . .

“Well, well,” Merle smirked.  “If it isn’t the boy scout.  Go on, now.  Have a seat,” Merle said, gesturing to the empty seat.  They were at the same Tapas place Lori had been to a week ago.  It was a popular place for lawyers.  “Hope you don’t mind my starting to eat without you,” Merle said, clearly not sorry at all.

Rick cocked his head at him, smiling, amused.  “Nah, you’re good.  We’re good.  You ready to talk business?”

Merle wiped his mouth, then took a sip from a wine glass.  “More of a beer drinker,” he said, gesturing to the glass of white.  “But the waitress said this would be better with the oysters.”  Merle shrugged.  “I think the beer would have suited me just fine.”

“You can always get another round,” Rick pointed out.

“Nah.  I’m on the job.  One drink.  For now.  Rick,” Merle said, leveling his gaze on him.  “My brother told me about this pickle you’re in.  There’s one thing I have to know.”  Merle smiled, leaning closer to Rick across the table.  Rick looked around, then leaned in as well.

“Yeah?”

“Are you boning this new broad?”

Rick sat back, disgusted at Merle’s vulgarities.

Merle laughed.  “Yeah, you’re putting the wood to her good, aren’t ya?  Mmm, mmm, mmm!  Here’s the _real_ money question, Officer Friendly.  Are you only in this to get your dick wet?”  He smirked.

“You done yet?” Rick asked, silently fuming.

“Easy there, cowboy.  If you want my help, I _have_ to know everything.  And I do mean _everything_.  That way, I won’t be blindsided later.  Does anyone else know?  Besides the other two Musketeers, anyway,” Merle said, rolling his eyes.

“No. No one.”

Merle picked up his oyster fork again.  “Good.  Let’s keep it that way.   _No one_ can know.  Otherwise...the missus will have grounds to take you to the cleaners, and have full custody of your boy.  We don’t want that, do we?”

“No,” Rick said quietly.

“Good.  We can work on the terms of what’s fair in regards to child support--”

“Whatever Carl needs...I’m doing it.”

“How noble.  But we also have to consider alimony.  The best way to keep costs down?  Let your wife keep the house.  Don’t fight her on it.  It’ll placate her, keep things familiar.”

Rick sat, thinking, then nodded in agreement.  “Okay.  What else?”

. . .

For whatever reason, his schedule couldn’t seem to coordinate with hers.  Rick found this odd, considering he wasn’t actually working and she made her own schedule, but, he decided to not think too much about it.  He was working on fixing the situation, and she would see that.  She would.

Still, Saturday couldn’t have come soon enough.

The outside of the gallery was deceiving.  It looked small, but once they were outside, it seemed endless, with long corridors, and had three floors.

“This place is so cool,” Carl said.

“Hello.  How can I help you?” a young woman asked.

“We’re uh...guests of Michonne’s,” Rick said.

“Ah.  She did tell me she was expecting guests.  You’re Carl, right?” the woman asked.  Carl nodded.  She extended her hand to him.  “I’m Michonne’s assistant, Rosita.  Noah!” she called out behind her.  A gangly, teen boy not much older than Carl came running out of the office.  “Don’t run,” Rosita admonished.

“Sorry,” Noah said.  He looked at Carl.  “Hey.  My aunt told me about you.  I’m Noah.”

“Carl,” he said, shaking the other boy’s hand.  

“You like art?” Noah asked him.

“Yeah.”

“Comics?”

“Of course.”

“MCU?”

“Duh,” Carl said with a smile. 

Noah clapped his hands.  “Cool. We’ll get along fine.  I’ll show him around.”

“Oh, no.  I’m coming with you two.  Pleasure meeting you,” she said to Rick.  “Michonne will be out in a moment.”

Rick watched them walk down the hallway, pleased to see Carl’s excitement at the exhibit, and at making a new friend.

“Carl doesn’t have a lot friends.”

Rick turned at the sound of her voice.  She stunned him into silence.  Her locks were curled into soft tendrils, and she was wearing a white, sleeveless, cable knit dress that cut off at the knee, hugging her form, and hot pink pumps.  She made him feel like a teenage boy.

Shaking himself, he replied, “No...he doesn’t.  He’s a good kid, though.  Great kid.”

“Mmm,” she said.  “Noah doesn’t have a lot of friends, either.  And he’s a great kid, too,” she said, smiling at him.

Rick stepped closer to her.  “You set this up on purpose,” he stated.

Michonne shrugged.  “I figured they could both use a friend.  And they like some of the same things, so...”  She trailed off, looking at his hair, smiling that soft, lovely smile of hers.  “You’re growing your hair out.”

“Well, someone I’m fond of is fond of my hair.”

“I’m sure they’re fond of you, too,” she said softly.

Rick stepped closer still, invading her personal space.  “I certainly hope so.”  He stared at her, and she stared back, neither blinking or backing down, quietly communicating with each other.  Rick glanced around, and saw a “Closed to the Public” sign on a door.  “And what’s over here?” he asked, taking her by the hand.

“It’s employees only right now,” she explained, although not stopping him.  Rick opened the door.

“Good thing I’m friends with the owner, then,” he said, closing the door behind them.

“Only friends?”

He pulled her further into the darkened room, then pushed her against the wall, kissing her passionately, desperately, moaning into her mouth.  “No.  Not only friends.  Been waiting to do that.”

“Rick...”

“I love how you say my name,” he whispered, slipping his hand between her legs, feeling damp, lace panties.  “Say it again.”

Her breath hitched as he slipped his fingers past the fabric, slipping one inside of her.  “Rick.”

His eyes nearly crossed at how wet she was.  He hitched up her sweater dress as she unbuckled his belt, and unbuttoned and unzipped his pants.  He hooked her left leg over his hip and thrust into her.  He covered her mouth with his, devouring her pants and moans as she swallowed his grunts.  Erratically, he pounded into her.  He needed, needed, _needed_ to be buried deep inside of her.  He throbbed where she quivered; he dug while she squeezed.  He idly realized her high heel was digging into the back of his thigh, but he didn’t care; he didn’t falter.  He pounded so furiously, it eventually fell off her foot, clattering to the floor.

He wondered if he was hurting her--her hand was clutched at his back, the other digging into his scalp, pulling his hair.  He released her mouth, looking at her.  She was flushed, wanton.  Rick could swear she glowed.  She gently caressed his face, and Rick came undone right there.

Spent, his head dropped into the crook of her neck as he slowly slid to his knees on the floor, taking her with him, still buried inside of her.  She let him go, getting off of his lap with a feminine grunt, collapsing next to him.

“Shit...my legs aren’t working,” she said, wiggling them a bit.

“I’m sorry.”

She scoffed.  “The hell you are.”

He laughed, sitting up a bit, tucking and buttoning.  Michonne stood, adjusting her underwear and dress.

“I have to go to the bathroom.”

Rick picked up her shoe, standing.  He turned, kneeling before her, picking up her foot.  He stared at her pearly-pink toes.  “You’re so girly,” he murmured, ticking the bottom of her foot, making her jerk away, laughing.

He looked up at her.  “I love your laugh.  And your smile.”   He took her foot once more, placing her shoe back on.

Michonne smiled again, looking away, tucking her hair behind her ear.  “I’m...I’m gonna--”

“Yeah.”

“See you out there,” she said with a wink, walking away.

Rick stared, taking in every sway of her hips.  He wondered how he would be able to go home without her.


	22. Albatross

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A weight is lifted...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Just wanted to thank everyone who's stuck with this fic. I know the subject matter isn't easy...so thanks for hanging in there and reviewing/reblogging. If you're still in it, let me know that, too! Thank you ^_^

"...Ah! Well a-day! What evil looks

Had I from old and young!  
Instead of the cross, the albatross  
About my neck was hung...  
...We drifted o'er the harbour-bar,  
And I with sobs did pray—  
O let me be awake, my God!  
Or let me sleep away..."

~ From _The Rime of the Ancient Mariner_ by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

. . . . . . . . . .

Michonne went to the bathroom, cleaning herself up. Legs still wobbly, she laughed.

Until she looked in the mirror.

She caught herself smiling, and realized she hadn't done so in a long while. And it was because of him. He made her laugh; made her happy. Michonne exhaled, looking down as she washed her hands.

_'Don't think too much about it; don't think. Don't think...'_

Except all she could do was think about it. She thought that if she stayed away...if only she could stay away...

And every moment had been miserable.

He'd call her, ask if she was free, and she had an excuse for every occasion. Except for today. Today, he had her.

As he and Carl were leaving, he gave her this smile-she couldn't put it into words if she wanted to. But, how it made her feel; how _he_ made her feel...

Michonne realized she didn't want to fight this feeling. Not anymore.

. . . . . .

"Are you using him as an escape?"

Michonne's head jerked up at Deanna's question. Her brow furrowed, and she looked away. "That's what I had been afraid of. Part of the reason why I stayed away from him. But now I know. He's not. I just...I want to be with him. I am with him," she said emphatically.

"Do you love him?"

Michonne sighed, as if a heavy weight had been lifted. "...Yes."

"Does he know?"

"No."

"Why?" Deanna asked simply.

"Because...he has a lot going on. He's married," she muttered, crossing her arms.

Deanna sat back, taking off her glasses. "My, that is a bit of a snag, isn't it. Did you always know this no-name Ned was married?"

Michonne swallowed, finally looking at her. "Still not telling you his name, but...yes. I did," she admitted quietly. "I kept my distance for a long while because of it. And then one day, there he was, right in front of me. I had only delayed the inevitable."

"That's a strong word-inevitable. Do you think he is your destiny?"

Michonne shrugged helplessly. "I don't know, I...I wonder what would have happened if I met him under different circumstances. Sometimes...sometimes it feels as if I've always known him. I look into his eyes, and...I wonder if Andre was still here, or if I was still with Mike...Would we still be in this boat?"

"Is it a boat, or a sinking ship?" Deanna asked, curious.

"Remains to be seen, doesn't it?" Michonne said pragmatically.

"That's promising. Good. You're aware of how south this can go."

Michonne squared her shoulders. "Whatever happens...I'm ready."

. . . . .

Michonne was sitting at her desk, reviewing portfolios when she heard a knock. She looked up and saw-

"Carl," she said, surprise coloring her voice. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, Noah said he comes here after school sometimes, so I thought I'd try to catch him."

"Ah. He's not here just yet." Michonne drummed her fingers, looking at him.

"Is it okay if I wait here for him?" he asked, stepping further into her office.

"Do your parents know you're here?" she countered.

He shrugged. "Not exactly...I might have mentioned an after school game of some kind. But it's not like I'm doing something bad."

Michonne exhaled. "Carl-"

"I'll even do my homework while I wait. See?" he said, holding up his book bag. "It's no big deal."

Michonne shook her head. "Okay, have a seat. Do your homework," she said. "But I'm letting your father know where you are. All right?"

Carl looked as if he might protest, but instead, he sat down quietly, pulling out a history book.

Michonne cocked her head, observing him. He looked more like his mother, but he had Rick's eyes and stubbornness. Michonne exhaled, pulling out her cell. She hadn't seen Rick since Saturday, but she had heard from him. He was quite diligent about calling her or texting her. Not for any particular reason other than to let her know he'd been thinking of her.

_Rick,_  
_Carl stopped by the gallery to catch up with Noah. Is that okay? I can drop him off if you'd like._

She hit "send." She couldn't bring herself to type she'd been thinking of him, too. Michonne still wasn't entirely sure how this was going to play out.

"Hey, Michonne?"

She looked up at Carl. "Yeah?"

"I just wanted, you know, to thank you. For inviting me here, introducing me to Noah...saving my dad." Carl smiled, looking away. "You're cool and heroic and stuff, and I hope it's okay for me to be here."

Realization dawned on her. "Of course it is. I just didn't want your parents to worry. You're always welcome here," she said sincerely.

Carl picked up his pen, glancing at her. "Thanks," he said, looking down at his book.

Michonne felt a pang at that. When the dust settled, she hoped it would work out for everyone. It was foolish to think that way, but it was still a nice thought.

. . . . .

Rick was sitting on the couch, flipping channels, then paused when he saw that reporter's face-Paul.

"Watching the news?" Lori asked, coming into the room.

Rick turned a bit, glancing at her. "Yeah. Sort of."

Lori leaned over the couch, wrapping her arms around him, nuzzling his face. Rick shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

_I'm standing here with Sheriff Grimes-an officer of the law, a husband, a father, and now, a local hero._

Lori's head snapped up at that. She stared at the television, riveted. "I used to dread hearing your name on the news...but now that you're okay...you look so _good_ on TV," she murmured into his ear before lightly biting it, her hands traveling down his chest to his crouch. Rick pulled out of her grasp, standing, slowly turning to look at her. Lori stared back at him, looking confused by his actions. Then she stared at his face. Hers turned stony at whatever she saw there.

_There were civilians in there-someone I cared about._

Lori looked at the television, then back at Rick. She stormed to the front of the couch, brushing past Rick to grab the remote.

"Lori, I-"

"Shut up," she muttered, rewinding the DVR.

_...civilians in there-someone I cared about.  
_

She rewound it again.

_...someone I care about._

She paused it on Rick's face-he was turning, looking behind him. "Someone you care about?" she asked. "Is that why you slink away whenever I try to touch you?"

"Lori-"

"Did you honestly think I wouldn't notice?" she asked him, incredulous. "Who is she? Tell me," she demanded, stepping closer. Rick didn't back away, but he did drop his head. "Look at me!" she yelled. Rick's body tensed, but he looked up at her. Lori stared at him, and slowly, realization dawned on her. "It's that woman, isn't it? She was there that night, she was..." Lori gave a bitter laugh. "How could I be so blind?" she asked herself quietly.

"It wasn't-"

"Get out. Get out!" she yelled, shoving him backward. Rick stood his ground.

"It doesn't have to be like this," he said.

" _You_ made it like this, Rick. Not me. Now get out."

Rick's jaw clenched in frustration. "Are you in love with me?" he asked.

"What?"

"I asked, are you in love with me?"

Lori stared at him, quiet. She swallowed. "No. Not anymore. Not for a long time," she admitted, staring him down, hoping like hell the words would hurt him.

"Then why go on pretending otherwise?"

Lori's head veered back as if she'd been slapped. "What?"

"It's...it's nobody's fault. We shouldn't use tragedy to fix it. To fix _us._ The best thing we can do is to know when to let go. To be _okay_ letting go. But hear me when I say that I love you. I will always love you, Lori. But...I'm not in love with you. We're not in love anymore," he said apologetically.

"Oh, but you're in love with _her_?" she asked.

Rick stared at her, then looked away.

"How long?" she asked, stunned.

"That...that doesn't matter."

"The hell it _doesn't_!" she it yelled.

"Long after you stopped wanting us to be husband and wife," he said. "We died a long time ago, Lori. We can't...we can't resurrect the dead." Rick tried to reach out to her, but she slapped his hand away. Rick nodded. "Okay. I'll go," he whispered. "I'll go. I'm sorry for this," he said sincerely.

Lori crossed her arms, looking away. "It would have been better if you'd never woken up," she whispered.

Rick stared at her, amazed. "How can you say that?"

Lori looked at him. "The truth hurts. Doesn't it?" she asked haughtily.

Rick stared at her, silent and furious. Lori straightened up, but didn't move.

Rick turned abruptly, grabbed his car keys from the end table, then left the house, slamming the front door behind him. He took a few deep breaths, taking in the afternoon sunshine, and felt...

Felt as if a weight had been lifted. The truth was out; he had nothing to hide. Rick smiled to himself as he walked to his car, taking out his cell. He could finally breathe easy, and couldn't wait to tell Michonne the good news.

Then he saw her text.

Carl.

"Shit," Rick muttered to himself, attempting to figure out how he would tell his son that he would not be going back home for awhile.


	23. Palpable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl and Abraham have a chat.

Thanks to everyone who took the time to review ^_^

* * *

"Hey Dixon."

Daryl turned at the sound of Abraham's voice. He was making a rare appearance in his office. Daryl preferred the shop, but he had to keep a handle on the boring paperwork. His two managers and assistant covered most things, but not quite all.

"What can you tell me about that Rick?" Abraham asked, getting right into it. Abe leaned casually against the wall, staring at Daryl calmly.

Daryl shrugged. "Well, to start, his name's just Rick."

"Alright. Just Rick-what kind of man is he?"

Daryl gave a little chuckle. "Come on, man. He's the sheriff."

Abraham shook his head. "No. I asked about him. Not his occupation."

Daryl sobered at that. "Rick-he's a good guy. One of the best."

Abraham nodded, thinking. "Do you know his intent with Michonne?"

"Your sister-in-law."

"No. My _sister_ ," Abraham clarified. "She's a vulnerable woman, and I don't take kindly to her being hurt or taken advantage of."

"Good thing she and Rick are two consenting adults, then," Daryl said, face straight.

"Mmm. I'm in a precarious situation-you being my boss, and him being your friend."

"Rick's my brother, man. I'm just as protective of him as you are of her."

"Okay. But if he hurts her in any shape or form, I'm coming for him."

"Fair enough. Look...he cares about her. I know that much. He's gonna put everything on the line to do right by her. If he doesn't come through...I won't get in your way."

They nodded at each other, the tension easing from their stances.

"Wanna grab a beer?" Abraham asked.

Daryl headed down the hallway towards Abraham. "Hell yeah. And a smoke."

. . . . .

_I'm out front._

Michonne looked at her phone, then glanced at Noah and Carl. They were engrossed in the video game, sitting on her office floor.

"Be right back," she said, getting up and heading out, though given their lack of response, she was sure they hadn't actually heard her. She stepped outside of the gallery doors, and saw him parked across the street, leaning against his car. For a man so casual, in jeans and a t-shirt, Michonne noticed that he was also quite gorgeous, with his high cheekbones, square jaw, tousled, dark curls, and piercing, soulful eyes that seemed to go through her very being. Rick Grimes could make her melt with just a look.

"How are you?" Rick asked her as she approached him. He smiled at her, but his demeanor was that of someone shy-looking down, hands shoved in his pockets. Michonne quietly observed him, amused.

"I just saw you a few days ago, Grimes. I'm well."

"You look it," he said quietly. She smiled at that. "Carl snuck over here, huh? Couldn't stay away."

"Naw. He couldn't," Michonne joked.

Rick nodded. "Yeah, I know what that's like," he said, briefly looking away. "Was he any trouble?"

"Oh, no trouble. He took the time to do his homework while he waited for Noah. They're hanging out now."

"Looking at more art?"

"Well, there may be a video game in my office. I enjoy spoiling my nephew. How else will I get to be his favorite aunt?"

"Competition stiff?" Rick asked, pushing off the car, standing closer to her.

"No. I'm his only aunt. But still."

Rick chuckled. "Even if you weren't, it'd be hard to not choose you, I'm sure. Someone special-can't be taken for granted." He tilted his head, giving her that look of wonderment that always gave her butterflies. "Listen, uh...Had a talk with my wife...She knows." Michonne froze, but didn't say anything. Rick continued. "Not how I planned to tell her, but, she tried to touch me and...it just felt wrong." His voice quieted. "Jesus, felt like it made my skin crawl," he said, shaking his head. "I...I don't belong to her. Not anymore. Not for some time."

"No?" she asked, voice just as quiet as his.

"No. Told her as much."

"You okay?" Michonne asked, touching his arm gently, wanting to comfort him, but also needing to touch him.

"Yeah...yeah." He sighed, caressing her face, letting his hand slide down to the side of her neck, cupping it. Gently, he pulled her to him for a kiss, lingering. Michonne pulled back.

"Someone could see," she murmured.

Rick's only response was to lean in and kiss her again.

. . . . . . .

"Hey, where'd Michonne go?" Carl asked, looking around the office. Noah shrugged.

"She went outside, I think," he said.

Carl stood, peaking his head into the hallway. He didn't see her.

"What are you worried about?" Noah asked.

"I'm just...worried about what she'll say to my dad. I didn't mean to lie-it's just they treat me like a kid," Carl explained.

"Yeah, well, might be better than the alternative. My dad is constantly telling me to man up...He doesn't get me at all," Noah admitted, tossing the game controller on the carpeted floor. "Man, if it wasn't for Michonne..."

"Sorry man," Carl said.

Noah shrugged. "S'okay."

Carl walked over to the window, looking for his dad's car. "He's here," Carl muttered, watching him talk to Michonne. There was something about how his dad was looking at her. Carl couldn't bring himself to look away, even if he wanted to. "What the hell..."

Noah stood and looked out the window next to Carl. "Whoa," he said once Rick grasped Michonne, pulling her to him, kissing her. Noah looked at Carl, taking in his reaction. Carl was quiet, but seemed wounded. Noah gently patted his shoulder.

"I'm sorry you had to find out like this, man."

Carl's head whipped around at that. "You _knew_?"

Noah threw his hands up. "Not really, I just...I knew something was up with them, just not what. Not _that_ ," Noah said, pointing out the window.

Carl stood their quietly for a moment, then grabbed his bookbag, running out the door.

Noah shook his head. "Damn."

. . . . . .

Michonne pulled back once more, though she clearly didn't want to, staring up into his face. "Wait, wait..where will you stay?" she asked.

Rick shrugged. "Shane or Daryl's. I'll be okay."

"Do you...would you want to-"

"No, that's...I mean, I'd love to. Just not now. Not like this. I realize how ass-backwards that sounds, but..."

"I get it," Michonne said sincerely.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Yeah," she replied with certainty.

"Okay."

"Dad?"

Rick looked over Michonne's shoulder and saw Carl with his backpack, ready to head off.

"Son. Hey."

"What's...what's going on?" Carl asked, looking between the two of them. Michonne, embarrassed, looked away.

"Just here to get you," Rick said, pulling out his keys, jingling them in his hand. "You ready?" he asked.

Carl nodded, heading to the passenger side of the car. He looked at Michonne. "Thanks. Tell Noah I'll see him around."

Michonne nodded at him, then looked at Rick.

 _I'll call you_ he mouthed before getting into his car.

Michonne watched them drive off, wondering just how much Carl had seen.

. . . . . .

"Have fun?" Rick asked, driving down I-85.

Carl nodded, staring out the window, biting on a nail.

"Michonne mentioned video games. What'd you play?"

Carl turned in his seat, turning his gaze to his father. "Did you...were you kissing her?" he asked.

Rick stared at the road, silent for a long while. "Yeah. Need to talk to you about that," Rick finally said. "Your mother and I...we aren't...I mean-"

"Are you getting a divorce?" Carl asked quietly.

"I'm so sorry, Carl. There's no way to prepare for something like this. I'm sorry you found out this way. Life-it doesn't care about the plans you had." He glanced at Carl. "I wish my dad was still around. He was always better at this sort of thing-talking things out so that they made sense. Were easier to bear...I'm sorry I can't do that."

"Do you love her?" Carl asked.

Rick's brow furrowed, his grip tightening on the wheel. Slowly, he pulled over, putting his break lights on. The other cars on the road whizzed past them, making the car shake from their speed. He looked at Carl, holding his stare.

"...Yeah."

"Do you still love mom?" Carl asked.

"Yes, but-"

"Then _why_?" Carl asked, trying to understand.

"Son, I'll always love your mom. Always. We just...we aren't good together. We aren't in love. It wasn't fair of us to make it harder on you, staying together when we had no business doing, it, but, I'm hoping when things change, it'll be better for you."

"Bullshit!" Carl yelled.

"Carl-"

"What if it isn't better for me? Then what? Where am I supposed to live?"

"Ideally you'd spend half your time with your mom, and half your time with me, but...where do you want to live?" Rick asked.

Carl looked startled, then sank into his seat.

Rick, feeling heartbroken, put the car in drive, and pulled back onto the road. He wiped at his eye, keeping his stare on the car in front of him.

"You," Carl whispered.

Startled, Rick nearly jerked the car. Instead, his head whipped briefly to Carl then back to the road.

"I wanna stay with you, Dad," Carl said louder.

Rick exhaled a sigh of relief, taking his son's hand, truly feeling like things would be okay.

. . . . . .

 _"Goddamnit!"_ Merle yelled. Rick pulled the phone back. _"You had only one thing to do, you simple shit."_

"It wasn't my plan, Merle," Rick said, dragging the man's name out. "What would you have had me do?"

_"Fuck your wife, of course! Keep up the lie. What? You couldn't get it up?"_

Rick sighed into the phone, not even angry at Merle and his tactlessness. "What can I say? I'm a one woman type of man."

_"There's some hypocritical bullshit if I ever heard it."_

"Look-"

_"Maybe...maybe we can fix this. Hell, you said she had seen a divorce attorney before you were shot, right? Maybe we can have a mediation. Keep things agreeable. You didn't by any chance get this hot shot's name, did ya?"_

"No."

_"Hmm...I'll sniff him out. Get someone to keep tabs..."_

"Tabs?" Rick asked.

_"Never you mind. Just try not to piss off your wife anymore than you have. In other words, keep your damn distance and your mouth shut!"_

Rick heard nothing. He looked at his phone-Merle had hung up.

Rick laid back on Shane's couch, staring at the ceiling.

 _'Staying away from Lori will be a cake walk,'_ he thought. The true hard part was over; all that was left was the cleanup.


	24. Mature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's gotta grow up, sometime...

     Rick put his phone down, and lay back on the couch, reflecting on his last conversation with Lori and Carl.  He exhaled, wondering how Carl got so strong.

 . . . . . .

_“Carl…I want you to know that I didn’t mean to put you in this position.  I don’t want you to choose between us.  But your mom and I—we can’t be together.”_

_“Michonne…is it because she saved you?”_

_“That’s not…it didn’t hurt.  But that’s not why.”_

_“How?”_

_“I don’t know, I just…  I see my future in her eyes.  Being with her feels like, like that’s where I’m supposed to be.  Who I’m supposed to be with,” Rick said quietly._

_“You and mom weren’t happy,” Carl said.  “I know.  I can’t remember the last time I saw you guys laugh together.  It was always…I dunno, tense?  Something.  Maybe you’re right and it’ll get better.  We should talk to her together.”_

_Rick shook his head.  “Carl, I can’t go in there right now.”_

_Carl looked over at him, his face set.  “Yes.  You can.  You have to.  Now let’s go,” he said with finality, getting out of the car._

_Rick just stared, stunned.  “Alright, then,” he said to himself._

_Lori was at the door, quickly pulling Carl into a bear hug.  “Oh sweetie…Where have you been?”_

_“I was with Dad,” Carl said, looking between them._

_Rick put a foot on the first step, then paused, looking up at them.  Lori pulled Carl behind her, staring Rick down._

_“Go inside, Carl.”_

_“No,” Carl said._

_“It’s okay.  I’m coming in with you.”_

_“What about Dad?”_

_“Your father has some place else to be.  Don’t you, Rick?”  Lori glared at him._

_“Actually, I don’t.  Carl wants to have a talk with both of us.”_

_“It can wait,” Lori countered._

_Carl stepped in front of his mom.  “No.  It can’t.  Both of you in the house.  Now.”  Carl walked in without a backwards glance.  Rick swallowed, then continued up the steps, staring at Lori all the while.  He brushed past her into the house—his house—without a word._

_Carl was sitting on the couch in the living room, waiting.  Rick went and sat next to him, while Lori stood, watching both of them._

_“You want to tell me what’s going on, Carl?” she said._

_“I know about the divorce,” Carl blurted out._

_Lori looked at both of them, stunned.  “Do you, now?  Rick, what have you told our son?”_

_“The truth,” Rick said simply._

_“Oh.  So you told our son you’re leaving us?”_

_“Lori, we’ve been over this.  I’m not walking away from my son.”_

_“Oh, is that what you told him?”_

_Carl stood up.  “Stop it.  The both of you.  Mom,” he turned to Lori.  “Dad is not leaving me.”_

_“He won’t be living here anymore,” she said fiercely._

_“I know that.  But that doesn’t mean…I want to live with him.”_

_Lori sucked in a breath, tears pricking her eyes.  “Carl, you don’t mean that.”_

_“I told him, he can live with both of us.  He doesn’t have to choose.”_

_“You,” she said, whirling on Rick.  “You poisoned him.”_

_“No, he didn’t.  Can’t you just stop?” Carl pleaded.  “You take me to school.  Pick me up.  You even_ work _there.  But Dad…once he starts working again, I’ll hardly see him at all.  But if I live with him, I’ll get to see him when he comes home.  Okay?”_

_Lori shook her head, kneeling before Carl, taking his hand.  “I can’t let you do that, Carl.  I just can’t.”_

_“But it’s my choice,” he countered._

_“No, it’s not.  You’re_ my _son.”_

_“I’m his son, too!” Carl yelled, running up the steps._

_Slowly, Rick rose from the couch.  “We should work this out between us.”_

_“I’m calling my lawyer.  I’m going to fight this.  I’m going to fight_ you _,” she said, fuming._

_“Let’s not put Carl through this if we don’t have to,” he said._

_“Oh, now you want to take the high road, after telling our son…what?  How could you tell him that?”_

_“The truth?  Lori, he already knew something was wrong.  He wasn’t even surprised to hear it.  The only people we were fooling were ourselves.”  Rick sighed, hands at his waist.  “I know you hate me right now, but I am begging you…let’s keep this as kosher as possible.  For him.”_

_“You don’t get to use our son as a bargaining chip, Rick.”_

_“And you don’t get to hurt him just to hurt me,” he said fiercely.  “Cause trying to keep him away from me?  That’s exactly what you’ll be doing.  You think on that,” he said, heading to the door._

_“Are you going to her?” she asked._

_Rick paused, hand on the doorknob.  “I’m going to Shane’s.”_

. . . . . .

     “Hey, man. You can stay here as long as you need,” Shane said, handing him a beer.  “That being said, Karen’s coming over later.  If you feel the need to make yourself scarce for a few hours…I wouldn’t be mad,” he said with a grin.

     Rick grinned back.  “Yeah, I can do that.  You two back together again?”

     “Well, we’ll certainly see.  We will tonight, anyway.”

     “You ever think about settling down?” Rick asked him.

      Shane scoffed.  “Yeah.  Like that worked out so great for you,” he muttered.

      “No.  It didn’t.  Doesn’t mean that can’t change,” Rick said, twisting his wedding band before finally taking it off, putting it in his pocket.

     Shane raised his eyebrows at that.  “You thinking of settling down again?  So soon?”

     Rick took a swig from the bottle.  “Shane, when you find the one, I promise you, it won’t feel like settling at all.”

     “I don’t know if that’s in the cards for me, brother.”

     “I’m sure it is.  Just gotta find her first.”  Rick stood, pacing.

     “You gonna go see her, man?”

     Rick leaned against the window, looking down at the street below.  “She isn’t far from your place,” Rick muttered.

     “Oh, is _that_ why you graced me with your presence instead of Daryl or your sister?”

     Rick shrugged.  “Didn’t think too much about it, honestly.”

     “Must’ve been one of those subconscious things.”

     “Yeah, must’ve been.”

     “I doubt she’ll be upset about it.  She did ask you to stay,” Shane pointed out.

     “She did.  And I want to be with her.  I do.  But not because my wife put me out.  I want…I want us to be together on our terms.”

     “What makes it _not_ your terms now?” Shane asked.

     Rick paused, considering.

     “She wants to be with you, and you clearly want to be with her, man.”

     Rick looked at him.  “This your way of saying I actually can’t crash at your place?” he asked with a quirk of his lips.

     “I told you—stay as long as you want.  Except for while Karen’s here.” 

     “When Karen comes…I’ll go.”

     “You can come back later, okay?  But while you’re gone—figure out what you want, then get it.  We ain’t getting any younger, Rick.”

. . . . . .

     Michonne pushed pause on _The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt_ at the sound of knocking at her door.  She went to the peephole and smiled once she saw it was Rick.

     “Hey,” she greeted.

     Rick smiled, then pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly, kissing her temple.  “Hey back.”

     “Come in,” she said, taking his hand.  Rick closed the door, then followed her in.  “What brings you to my neck of the woods?”

     “I was close by.  I hope visiting is okay,” he said.

     She looked at him, smiling.  “Always.”

     Holding hands, they sat down on the couch.

     “I was staying at Shane’s.  He’s not too far from you.  But his on again, off again girlfriend came to visit,” he explained.  “And, I wanted to see you anyway.”

     “Ah.  Twofer,” she said.

     “Whatcha watching?” he asked.

     “Oh, just…this silly sitcom.  We can watch something else.”

     “Movie?”

     “Goodfellas,” she said.

     He smiled at her.  “Done.”

     They ordered Thai and curled up on the couch together, watching the film, occasionally stealing kisses.  The two and a half hours of the film flew by.  Though both still awake, they were laid on the couch, Michonne on top of Rick, his hands resting on her low back.

     “I’m tired,” she murmured.

     “Yeah,” he agreed.

     “It’s late.  You can stay the night.  If you want,” she whispered, drawing idle circles on his right shoulder.

     Rick stroked her hair.  “I’d like that.”

     Michonne sat up, smiling at him.  “Let’s go to bed.”

     Together they walked to her room, quietly undressing.  Michonne left on her panties and tank top, while Rick left on his boxers.  They climbed into the bed, Rick spooning her, inhaling her scent.  Content, they drifted off to sleep.


	25. Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new day arises... Poem was written by me, inspired by those two crazy kids. This is more interlude than chapter, as the next one will be a time jump...

> _I had a dream_   
>  _That you were in my arms,_   
>  _And you loved me_   
>  _As I held you close._
> 
> _My entire world tilted on its axis_
> 
> _The day that I met you_
> 
> _And spun in reverse_
> 
> _When I fell in love with you._
> 
> _And yet, it feels as if_
> 
> _I’ve always known you._
> 
> _The truth was in your eyes;_
> 
> _The reason in your heart;_
> 
> _My purpose in your soul._

 

_“I’ve never had pad see eiw before.  What kind of broccoli is this?” Rick asked, reaching for the container on the coffee table.  Michonne glanced at his hands—strong and firm, yet so gentle, the way he’d hold her.  She belatedly realized she wanted those hands on her.  Always._

_It took her a moment to realize it, but she saw it, plain as day—his wedding band was gone.  She took a moment, swallowing, looking away before responding.  “Chinese broccoli.”_

_“Tastes good,” he said, smiling at her, placing that white, plastic fork in his mouth suggestively.  Michonne laughed, nudging his shoulder with hers.  She leaned against him as he ate, watching the magic between Henry and Karen on screen.  Michonne exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding—_

_This was real.  Rick was here, with her, unclaimed._

_Hers._

_She wrapped her arm across his belly, feeling both elated and terrified.  What if it fell apart?  What if he didn’t feel the same way?  What if—_

_“Hey.  You okay?” he asked.  She tilted her head up from his chest, staring into his soft, blue eyes.  This was Rick.  He wouldn’t leave her.  With him, she wasn’t alone._

_She smiled at him._

_“Yeah.  I’m okay,” she assured him.  And she was._

. . . . . .

Michonne woke up, feeling the wall of Rick’s chest against her back.  His arm was draped over her, resting on the bed, but nestled between her breasts.  She shifted, and he shifted with her, kissing the back of her shoulder.  Unconsciously, she thrust back against him—his hardness—eliciting a moan of approval.

“Michonne,” he murmured, thrusting back against her, his hand traveling to her hip.  The room had a soft glow from the rising sun.  Michonne remembered another room at another time when they were spooned like this—she lost in grief, and he lost in solace.  Today was different.  Today, she was his, and he was hers.  She sucked in a breath, grinding back against him.  His ring-free hand snuck their way past the elastic waist of her panties, dipping downward, caressing her, making her moan.  Nipping at her neck, he eased her panties down to her knees, his hardness pushing against her.  Wrapping her arm around behind his neck, holding him to her, she lifted a bit, letting him in.  His fingers dug into her hip bone as he leisurely moved inside of her.  Hating the hindrance, she pulled the offending underwear all the way off, moving her leg on top of his, allowing him deeper.  He whispered a curse, and her name, squeezing her behind before pulling out and away from her.  He turned her over so that she lay flat, then covered her body with his.

He kissed her deeply, re-entering her, and said, “I need to see you.”

Michonne whimpered, kissing back, giving herself over, ankles locked at his back.  Rick lift her tank top upward, tasting each breast.  Michonne brought him up by his curls, needing to claim his mouth for herself.  He snuck a hand between them, working her over.  She clamped around him, tensing, and let go, falling back to the mattress, sated.  Rick stared into her eyes as he followed her into the abyss, still needing to see her. 

He collapsed on top of her, kissing the juncture of her neck and shoulder, whispering, “I love you,” in her ear.  Michonne pushed him back, wiping the sheen of sweat from his forehead, smoothing back his curls as she stared at him.  He smiled at her.  “I do.”

Michonne cradled his face, smiling back at him.  “Yeah?”

He nodded.  “Yeah.”

She kissed him, hoping to convey everything she felt for him; that he was the one; that he was the love she had never known.

 


	26. Shelves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can't put things on the back burner...

A/N: Thanks to everyone who left a review, gave a like, did a reblog or dropped a PM.  It keeps me motivated!

* * *

 

“She still hasn’t said it back yet, has she?” Carol asked, Rick.  He was leaning against her kitchen counter, eating a cookie that she had recently placed on a platter to cool.  His chewing slowed at that, and he swallowed heavily, glancing away.

“No.  But that’s not–”

“I don’t understand,” Carol interrupted.  “You two are living together.”

“We’re not–I just stay over.  A lot.”

“And you said it to her?” Carol asked.

“A month ago, yeah.”

“Have you said it again since then?”

Rick’s brow furrowed.  Not because he was thinking, but because he didn’t want to tell her the truth. “Maybe once or twice.  It’s no big deal.”

“Oh, Rick,” Carol said with a sigh, putting in her next batch.  “Honey, you can lie to yourself, but not me.  I know you, remember?  You walk around with your heart on your sleeve for anyone to jab at,” she said, poking him playfully above his heart.  “You shouldn’t have said it at all.”

“But it’s how I feel.  And…I want to be honest with her.”

Carol frowned at him.  “Do you think you can control that honesty impulse for the next couple of hours at the mediation?” she asked, packing some of the cooled cookies into a pink box, an elegant _Miss Sophia’s_ label on the top.

Rick nodded.  “Yeah, I think I’ll be alright,” he said sarcastically.

Carol looked at him, her face serious.  “I mean it, Rick.  Don’t cock this up.  Carl’s too important.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Let Merle do his job, okay?” she said, hugging him.  “Now go.  Do the Grimes family proud.”

… . .

Rick and Merle sat quietly across the table from Lori and Philip.  Philip looked the two men over, a small smile on his face.  Merle looked him and Lori over, a small smile on his.

“I want to thank you all for coming,” Philip said magnanimously.  

Rick and Merle glanced at each other.  

“Yes, I’m glad we were able to have this meeting today, so we thank you as well for coming,” Merle said.  “What’d we like–”

“Here’s the deal,” Philip interrupted.  “Rick here’s an upstanding guy and a good father.  No one would argue otherwise.  But…he made a crucial mistake.  Shacking up with another woman while still married–”

“I am _not_  shacking up,” Rick said defiantly.  

Merle put a calming hand on his shoulder.  “Easy there, cowboy.”  He turned his gaze to Lori and Phillip.  “I don’t know where you’re getting your information, but Rick has been living with his best friend Shane Walsh.”

“And yet, I have photos showing his comings and goings from Michonne Logan’s apartment,” Philip said, his voice saccharinely sweet as he slid a few photos across the table.  Sure enough, it was Rick, going into Michonne’s building, and coming out of Michonne’s building, everything time-stamped.

Merle scoffed.  “Yes, that is a man who resembles Rick, going into a building, and coming out of a building.  But that’s hardly proof.  There’s no guarantee that’s him, and even if it was, he could be there, allegedly, for a number of reasons.  It wouldn’t be hard to pick this apart.”  Merle’s smile widened at Philip’s ire.  “Hope I didn’t upset you,” Merle said lightly.  “Also, I hope you never play poker.  You’d make it too easy.  Kind of like your client, there.”

Rick and Lori’s head whipped to Merle at that.

“See, now,” Merle started, pulling a remote from his jacket, hitting the play button.  “I have my own picture show.  Except mine is in motion–living color.”  Merle gestured for all parties to turn their eyes to the TV in the room.

“Oh my god,” Lori gasped, staring at herself on the screen, head thrown back as she sighed in ecstasy on top of Philip.

“Looks like your lawyer gave you a good rattle, there, Lori.  See how it closes in your face and we can clearly see it’s you in that motel?”

“Turn it off!” Lori yelled.

Rick laughed.  He laughed so hard tears sprung to his eyes.

Merle hit the pause button.  “You two wanna talk receipts?  I’ve got them.”

“That’s not fair!” Lori shouted.  “That happened after…after _he_ ,” she said, pointing an accusatory finger at Rick.  “Cheated on _me_!”

Philip rubbed his forehead, feeling a migraine coming.

“Calm down now, girl.  Your hands aren’t clean.  It’s alright.  Your husband, well, soon to be ex-husband?  He’s a generous man.  He doesn’t want to take custody from you.”

Rick wiped at his eyes, cleared his throat, and composed himself. “Lori, I don’t.  I want to be as fair about this as possible.  So I thought…I could pick Carl up from school, bring him home in the evenings in time for dinner and take him every other weekend.  I want to do what’s right for him.  I want to be _fair_ to him.”  

“Or it can go the other way, where Sheriff Grimes here takes full custody.  With this video and his good standing with the town, not mention being our heralded hero, we’d have a slam dunk case.  Hell if he were me, that’s _exactly_  what we’d be doing.  Lucky for you, Lori, he’s not.”

“But you don’t even _have_  a place, Rick,” Lori countered.

“The lady does bring up a good point,” Philip said, all the while not looking at either man, opting to watch his own finger trail the rim of his water glass instead.

“I’m working on that.  Won’t be too much longer.”

Lori looked at Rick, then Merle, then Philip, and finally the TV.  She got up, hitting the power button, turning the screen black.  She knew she had lost.  She knew it.

With a deep breath, she turned and looked at Rick.  “Okay.  I accept your terms, Rick.  I accept them.”

… …

“So are you two living in sin or not?” Sasha asked, stretching.  Maggie was tying up her shoelaces while Michonne wrapped her hair in a bun.

Michonne eyed her sister warily, adjusting her workout top.  “We’re not living together.”

“Yet,” Maggie added with a snort.  “I don’t know what the hold up is. He’s pretty much at your place every night.”

“He’s mostly staying at Shane’s, but yes, he does come by to visit.  Is that a problem?” Michonne asked, hand on her cocked hip.

Sasha shrugged.  “Nah.  Just wanted a little clarification of the situation.  If anything’s changed.”

“Oh, you mean since he professed his love and removed his ring?  Come on, Sash, that’s nothing to scoff at,” Maggie said, standing.  “Besides, I’m sure he gives Michonne that much needed at home workout,” she said with a grin.

Michonne smiled.  “Rick, he’s…high endurance, that one.  Lots of energy.”

Sasha’s eyebrows raised.  “That right?”

“And he’s skilled, too,” she said with a smirk.  Then, a far away look was in her eyes as she thought about him.  “And, just…no one’s looked at me the way he looks at me, you know?  His gaze is just…”  Michonne exhaled, searching for the words.  “Raw.  And pure.  There’s not a shred of doubt.  Sometimes, I feel like…like I could cry.”

“Stop, or I might cry,” Maggie said, fanning her eyes.  “Hormones.  Stupid Period.”

“Come on.  Let’s go kick things,” Sasha said.

The trio walked to the boxing ring standing with the other members of the class.

“Alright, looks like we have a few newcomers to class today,” the instructor said.

“Yeah, this is my sister Sasha, and my best friend, Maggie,” Michonne said.

“Welcome ladies, welcome,” the instructor said with a nod.  “Michonne, want to come up first and show them how it’s done?”

“Come on, T, you said I cold start,” a woman groused.

“That was before Michonne brought company,” Theodore T-Dog Douglas said.

Michonne stepped up, climbing under the rope.

“Let’s do a quick run through of the basic routine.”

Michonne nodded, getting into position.

“Go!” T-Dog shouted, going on attack.  Michonne parried and blocked with ease.  Her gaze was set, her movements skilled.  Michonne smiled, feeling like poetry in motion–

Until T landed a kick on her side.

Michonne collapsed to the mat, head down, suppressing a yell.

“Damn, Michonne, I’m sorry.  You okay?” he asked, dropping down to one knee next to her.

“I’m fi–”  Michonne winced, holding her side, before falling completely to the mat.  Tears sprung to her eyes.  “Oh god, this isn’t…this doesn’t feel right,” she muttered.

“Michonne!” Sasha yelled, suddenly beside her.  She grabbed Michonne’s hand.  “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, but it hurts so bad,” Michonne said, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” T-Dog said.

“I’m taking her to the hospital. Carry her to the car,” Sasha ordered T-Dog.  He nodded, picking Michonne up gently.  

Michonne shut her eyes, terrified.  “Maggie,” she said.

“I’m here.  I’m here,” she heard her say.

“Get my phone.  Call Rick.  Please.”  Michonne sobbed as T-Dog gently put her in the back seat of Sasha’s car.  She was scared, but angry.  At herself, for being so foolish.  She only hoped her mistake wouldn’t cost her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks to everyone who left a review, gave a like, did a reblog or dropped a PM. It keeps me motivated!


	27. Kinetic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ki·net·ic [kəˈnedik/]  
> adjective
> 
> of, relating to, or resulting from motion.

A/N: I want to apologize for all of the typos.  I’m just so anxious to get it out.  Anyone who does a re-read, I swear you’ll be rewarded by a more streamlined version.  And sorry for the cliffhanger!  Listened to my [_Useful to You_  soundtrack ](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLAVn22ARZmhAGzomQPInSgLzF8a1HQ9_I)and got this latest version out.  

And I just want to add, this was not what I planned.  Yeah, most of this is by the seat of my pants, but I had a loose outline of what I wanted to see happen, but, the characters felt differently.  I won’t share what those differences are just yet, but perhaps when this is finally complete.  There’s an entire alternate timeline.  Hmm...

Also, reviews are pretty!  May I please have some more?

 

* * *

 

 

 

_“This is good,” Rick said, cupping water in his hand and pouring it on her shoulder.  They were sitting in a corner her jacuzzi tub that was big enough for four.  
_

_“Yeah.  The last guy who lived here?  He was a total playboy.  And this, was his bachelor pad.  Kinney Kingdom,” she explained.  
_

_“Kinney?”_

_“Brian Kinney, CEO of Kinnetic.  He gave me his blessing to christen every room, and every surface as he had.”_

_"Yeah, that’s definitely a weird thing to say,” Rick said, wrapping his arms low on her abdomen._

_“The man has no filter.”  
_

_“Why’d he leave?”  
_

_Michonne turned her head towards Rick, but looked down at the water instead.  “He said he met ‘the one.’  They’re moving to Rochester, where he found his honey’s perfect house.”_

_“Sounds like a lucky woman,” he said, giving her a squeeze.  
_

_“Lucky man, actually.  Brian’s gay.  But yes, I imagine his fiance is quite lucky.”  
_

_“I know the feeling,” Rick said, kissing her shoulder.  “Love you,” he murmured.  
_

_Michonne turned in his arms, gently cupping his face as she gave him a kiss._

 . . . . .

“I’ll have the papers drawn up.  Have everything all nice and final,” Merle said with a smug smile, packing up.

Rick’s cell rang, and he looked down, seeing it was Michonne.  He smiled to himself, walking to the other corner of the room away from Merle, Lori and Philip, answering it.

“Hey,” he said softly in a voice reserved just for her.

_“Rick?”_

Rick frowned at the voice that was definitely not Michonne.

_“It’s...I’m Maggie.  Michonne’s friend.  She’s um, we had to take her to the hospital.  She wants you to come.”_

Rick felt his insides twist at that.  “What?  What’s wrong?”

_“We don’t know how bad it is.  But she’s in good, good hands.  Just come right away, okay?”_

Rick shut his eyes, staggering back.  His heart was pounding, his head thumping.  He turned, running right into Lori.

“Rick?” she asked, looking him over.  “You look ill. What’s wrong?”

“It’s...She’s in the hospital.  I have to go,” Rick said, then brushed past her, fleeing the room.

Philip glanced at Merle, than Lori.  “This could be interesting,” he said.  “I think we should go see about that, don’t you?”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Merle said with a scoff, picking up his briefcase.  “Whatever is wrong with her, his presence there won’t mean jackshit.  Go on and waste your gas and your time,” Merle said dismissively.  “I’ll see y’all next week,” he said with a wink, heading out.

“He’s right,” Lori said.  “There’s nothing to gain from going there.  Not after...”

“Well now, that depends on why she’s there, doesn’t it?  Maybe she had a terrible accident. Or, maybe something happened that’s worth it to us,” Philip said with a grin.

“What do you mean?” Lori asked, curious.

“Well for instance, what if she’s having a complicated pregnancy?”

Lori blanched at that.

“Think of it--all that time they spent together.  It wouldn’t surprise me.  Does it _really_ surprise you?”

Lori looked confused.  “Even if that’s true, if she’s in the hospital, then...”

“Well let’s go see, shall we?”

“I don’t know, Philip.”

Philip’s gaze hardened.  “Do you want your boy to yourself or not?”

Lori straightened up, nodding, and headed to the parking lot with Philip.

. . . . . .

“Hey, can you please tell her that I’m sorry?” T-Dog pleaded.  He was standing in the hallway outside of the hospital room with Maggie, distraught as ever.

Maggie whirled on him.  “This is _not_  about you.  Now go away. Go away!” she yelled at him.  T-Dog, while incredibly pained, still turned and left.  Just as Maggie was about to head back in, she saw Rick rounding the corner.  He was sweaty, his face frightened, tear tracks on his cheeks.  He looked awful.

“Rick!” she called.  He paused, looking at her, confusion on his face.  “I’m Maggie.”

Slowly, he walked over to her.  He looked as if he was bracing himself for the worst.

“They’re running additional tests now.  We were in a kickboxing class, and she was hit.  It wasn’t the best idea, since she was pregnant and all.”

Rick stared at her, eyes welling up.  “She...she was?” he asked, voice broken with grief.

Maggie’s eyes widened.  “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.  She is--is pregnant.  But she didn’t know.”

Rick clutched his stomach, sobbing, feeling relief.  Maggie, rubbed his back.  “You okay?” she asked.  

“I need to see her,” he rasped.

Maggie nodded.  “Sasha’s in there now with the doctor.  Dr. Greene.  Hershel.  He’s my dad.  She’s in the best hands, I promise you.”

Rick straightened up, nodded, then went to the door, opening it carefully.

Sasha was on one side of the bed, holding Michonne’s hand, while the doctor--Hershel, was on the other, an ultrasound wand on Michonne’s flat belly.  Rick swallowed, stepping closer.  The sound of a rapid heartbeat filling the room made him pause once more.  He gasped, and Michonne looked up at him, tears in her eyes.

“That’s good,” Hershel said.  “Your baby’s heartbeat is strong.  Healthy.  There might be complications down the line, so I must stress that you please take it easy.  Kickboxing is out.”  Hershel followed Michonne’s gaze.  “I take it this is the father?” 

“He is,” Sasha answered, staring at Rick, then looking back down at her sister.  She kissed her forehead, then let go of her hand.  “I’m gonna give you two a minute, okay?” she whispered.  Sasha walked past Rick, an unreadable look on her face.

“Is this one your first?” Hershel asked.

Rick shook his head.  “No--”  His voice broke, and he cleared his throat.  “No.  I just...she said you were here, and...”

“Rick,” Michonne whispered, holding her hand out to him.

As if in a trance, Rick stumbled over to her, then held her tight, crying into her hair.

“I’ll give you two a minute,” Hershel said, putting the wand down.  Without the heartbeat filling the room, all that was left was Rick’s sobs.

“You’re okay.  You’re okay,” he murmured. 

Michonne took his hand, and placed it on her abdomen.  “ _We’re_  okay,” she whispered.  She pulled his head up, staring into his eyes.  She smiled at him.  “All three of us.  I love you.”

Rick kissed her fiercely, then peppered her cheeks and forehead with kisses before returning to her lips.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.  I’m sorry--”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said.  “All that matters, is now.  I love you, Michonne.”


	28. Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family is what matters.

A/N: Hey Gang! So, I know there have been come complaints about chapter length. I don't know what it is, but, for the most part, my chapters run about 1200-1500 words. The longest thing I ever wrote is my novel [The Good Soldier](http://tinyurl.com/tgsnovel). Anyway, sorry about that! Still, I hope the chapters pack a punch and keep you interested!

* * *

"When did this happen?" Rick asked her.

"Almost seven weeks exactly," Michonne said. "The day you showed up at my door with your intense eyes," she said with a smile.

Rick smiled back at her. "The first time, huh?"

"You have very aggressive swimmers, apparently."

He kissed her again. "They knew a good thing when they saw it," he murmured.

She caressed his stubble-ridden face. "You're happy?" she asked quietly.

He frowned. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

Michonne sighed. "It's just…the situation isn't…it's not the best," she finished.

"Hey," he said, cupping her face, staring into her eyes. "You love me, and I love you. This baby will have a family that loves it, and parents who love each other. That's what's important. That's what matters."

Michonne's lower lip quivered, joyous tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. Rick kissed her gently, silently telling her it would all be okay.

. . . . . .

"How's she doing, Daddy?" Maggie asked, Sasha by her side.

"She's fine. Wanted to give her and the father-to-be a moment. He was terribly emotional," Hershel said with a small smile. "He said it wasn't his first child, but he sure was acting like it."

"He was worried about her. Scared," Sasha said. Her face was confused, as if she couldn't wrap her mind around it.

"The man looked like death, he was so terrified," Maggie agreed.

"Well, I'm going to keep her overnight. I'll have someone bring a cot. I'm sure he'll want to stay with her."

"I'm sorry, are you referring to Rick Grimes?"

They all turned at the sound of a man's voice. He was tall and handsome, a disarming smile on his face.

 _'Plastic,'_ Sasha thought.

 _'Aged Ken doll,'_ Maggie thought.

 _'Trouble,'_ Hershel thought.

"I'm sorry," Hershel said. "Can we help you?"

"Yes, I'm looking for Rick Grimes."

"Why?" Maggie asked, noticing the brunette behind the man, looking as if she was unsure if she should be there.

"Well, it's quite simple, really. His wife here," he said, gesturing to the woman behind him. "Is looking for him."

Sasha nodded. "You're Mrs. Grimes?"

The woman nodded. "Yeah."

Sasha looked at Hershel and Maggie, looking decidedly put off. "I'll go fetch him," she said casually, walking back into the hospital room.

"Is everything alright in there? I'm Philip, by the way. Philip Blake. Family friend," he said, extending his hand to Hershel.

Hershel eyed it warily, then shook it with trepidation.

"Did Michonne have an accident?" Philip pressed.

"I can't discuss that," Hershel said simply.

"What about you?" he said to Maggie. "You're not a doctor, I assume," he said, giving that same smile.

"I'm not, but I too am a family friend. Michonne's family. And I don't know you," Maggie said, crossing her arms.

"Is she okay?" Lori asked.

Maggie eyed her warily. "I'm sorry about…this unfortunate situation," Maggie said. "But I can't talk about it to you, either."

Lori was clearly miffed, but looked away.

It was decided: If Rick wanted to tell these two about what was wrong with Michonne, it would be up to him.

. . . . . .

Sasha stormed into the room, mouth set into a thin line. She paused, taking in the scene before her—

Rick was leaning his forehead against her sister's, a smile on both their faces as she held his hand to her belly. Sasha shook herself, remembering that _Mrs. Grimes_ was just on the other side of that door. "Sorry to interrupt this family portrait," Sasha said, "But Rick? Your _wife_ and some guy are out there, asking about Michonne."

Rick and Michonne both looked at her simultaneously, the same expression of shock on their faces.

"What?" he asked, standing up.

"I said, your wife—"

"No, I caught that. I just…" Rick looked at Michonne, took her hand and kissed it. "Be right back," he said with a reassuring smile. Swiftly, he walked across the room, brushing past Sasha and out the door. Sasha, curious, followed right behind him.

. . . . . .

Rick stepped out into the hallway and saw Maggie and Hershel staring at Lori and Philip. Rick's eyes narrowed. "What are you two doing here?"

"Could ask you the same thing, Rick," Philip said with a smile. "I know things didn't look too good for Lori in that mediation room," Philip said, taking a pause, seeing he had the full attention of the other three pairs of eyes standing there. "But, what could be worse than a judge hearing that you engaged in an extramarital affair that lead to a pregnancy? The scandal."

"You told him?" Sasha asked Hershel and Maggie.

Hershel gave an exasperated sigh. "No. But you did."

Philip smiled deeply, dimples showing. "Thought as much."

Lori looked away, tears involuntarily springing to her eyes. She took a deep breath and said, "Enough," before walking away, finding refuge in the women's restroom.

"Rick, the question becomes, are you going to deny not only your relationship, but that baby publicly? Because it may very well come to that. They'll drag both you and her through the mud. I can see the headlines now—'Sheriff Bewitched By Black Magic—"

Before Philip could finish his sentence, Rick gave him a hard right hook, spinning him into the wall. Rick lunged, preparing to strike again, but Maggie stepped in front of him, blocking him away from Philip.

"Not here. Not _now_ ," Maggie said, staring at him. She shivered a bit after looking into his eyes, taking a step back, fearful of what she saw there.

Rick looked down at his bruised knuckles, breathing heavily. He turned his gaze to Philip, who had that same smile on his face, hand over his now bruised eye. "You should probably put some ice on that," Rick said coldly. "And if you threaten my family again, I'll—"

"Rick, stop talking," Hershel said. "I'm gonna go ahead and guess this is your wife's lawyer," Hershel said, putting his hands into the pockets of his white coat.

"That I am," Philip said. "I won't need to call one when I sue this bastard for assault."

"Now wait a minute," Hershel said, voice ever calm. "You have a man here who has suffered a traumatic event. He came in here, looking sick as a dog, out of his head. And then you provoked him." Hershel shook his head. "That can't be worth more than a slap on the wrist. Perhaps your time would be better spent checking on your client," Hershel said, jerking his head in Lori's direction.

Philip stood up, straightened his tie, then went to fetch Lori.

"Rick, I meant what I said. If you need me to, if it comes to it, I'll testify."

Rick looked at Hershel, grateful. "Why?"

"Michonne's like a daughter to me. Knew her and Sasha when they were in grade school," he said with a smile. "Frankly, if you hadn't punched that son of a bitch, I would have."

. . . . . .

Lori leaned against the sink, looking at her reflection. Her eyes met Philip's as he entered.

"Anyone else in here?" he asked.

She shook her head, turning on the water, splashing it on her face.

"Your husband punched me in the face. Not even going to ice it right now. I'll let it bruise real ugly. We can add 'violent temper' to his list of transgressions, now," Philip said, smug.

Lori patted her face dry, then turned and looked at him. "Don't," she said quietly.

"Why?" he asked sternly.

Lori shrugged, holding herself. "Well look at him—he has a whole new family squared away. Carl wants to live with him, you know," Lori said, sniffing. "And Carl is the end game, here. Hurting Rick isn't going to bring me any closer to my son."

Philip cocked his head to the side, observing her. "You told me you were ready to take things all the way."

"And I am, I just…that isn't the way to go. Rick has to turn himself against Carl. I can't be the one. But today…today it's been made clear. Rick just made himself a noose," Lori said. "I won't have to do anything."

Philip shrugged. "Perhaps we can help him along. Maybe…maybe this story does get leaked to the press."

"You can't. Not without exposing me, too. Exposing _us_."

"That didn't happen until _after_ you learned of Rick's cheating."

"That won't matter. It's how it will _look_ , and I have no doubt that Merle would be the type to leak it online, then claim innocence. No, we have to be smart about this. I have to be smart."

Philip bristled at that. "Because that's worked out so well for you already," he said snidely. He rolled his shoulder, then cracked his neck. "You wanted a professional to help, which is why you hired me. But fine, we'll do it your way. We'll do absolutely nothing."

 


	29. Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What do you want, for you?"

Thanks to everyone who has shown this fic some love in some shape or form.  I appreciate the support.  Thank you ^_^

 

  


 

_Rick sped on the asphalt, vision blurry, but determined to get to his destination–_

_The hospital._

_He glanced in his rear-view mirror, preparing to switch lanes, and saw the redness of his eyes.  He could taste salt in his mouth, as the tears kept streaming down.  But that didn’t matter–none of it did._

_He just had to get there; he had to get to her._

… …

“The other guy deserve it?” Michonne asked, holding the ice pack to Rick’s knuckles.  

“Believe me, he did.”  

 

* * *

 

 

They were sitting side by side on the hospital bed.  Rick had protested, but Michonne assuaged him, saying, _“I’m not leaving the bed.  Only sitting up.  See?”_

“What happened out there?” she asked.

Rick exhaled heavily, looking towards the closed door of the hospital room.  “You know…you and me?  We’ve gotta stop meeting like this.”  He turned back towards her, smiling.

She smiled back, then leaned in, kissing him gently, then pulled away.  “Now.  Are you going to tell me?”

“The mediation was today,” he started.  “It worked out in my favor, happy to say.  Then I got that call from Maggie…Anyway, Lori and her lawyer followed me here, threatening to expose me.  Us,” he amended, placing his left hand on top of hers.  “That isn’t why I hit him–the lawyer–though.  It was how he talked about you.”  Rick looked at her, holding her gaze.  “I couldn’t have that.”

“No?” she asked, her voice quiet.

“No.  Besides, there was no shortage of people who wanted to punch him out in that hallway.  I just got there first.”

Michonne stared at him, gently moving errant curls from his brow.

A knock at the door and it slowly opening caused them both to turn.  Hershel sighed, shaking his head as he looked at Michonne, Maggie and Sasha close behind.

“The purpose of a hospital bed is for you to lay down in it,” he chastised.

Rick quickly stood, then turned and looked at Michonne, expectant.  “Go on, then,” he said.

Michonne looked between him and Hershel, then laid back as requested.  “I’m only here until tomorrow.  Does it really matter if I’m sitting up or not?”

“Yes,” Hershel said emphatically.  “I’m gonna need you to be able to handle simple instruction on this, Michonne.  We’re going to monitor this pregnancy closely, but I don’t want this to become high risk, you got it?”

Michonne nodded, hands fluttering to her belly.

“But right now she’s okay?” Rick asked.

Hershel nodded.  “Right now, yes.  And it’s our job–all of us–” he said, looking at Sasha and Maggie as well.  “To make sure she stays that way.”

“Yeah.  Already know how stubborn she can be,” Sasha said, eyes flickering to Rick.  Rick frowned at her, then shifted his gaze back to Hershel.

“I’m on board. Whatever it takes,” Rick said, eyes finally landing on Michonne, hand on her shoulder.

“We’ll make this work,” Maggie said.  “We’re in this together, you hear me?” she said, walking to the other side of the bed, taking Michonne’s hand.

“She’s right,” Sasha said, shaking her head, her voice full of contrition.  “I’m with you.”  She looked at Rick.  “Just make sure you’ll still be with us.  No matter what.”

Rick straightened at that, understanding coming to him.  “Yeah,” he said with a tilt of his head.

Michonne looked around the room, and felt the love there.  Then she thought of Abraham.  Glenn…

Andre.

“Whatever it takes,”Michonne said, addressing the room, but looking at Rick.  “Whatever it takes to get there, just as long as we get there.”

_… …_

_“Hot damn, a baby?”_ Rick smiled at the excitement in Shane’s voice.   _“Brother, you are not wasting any time, are you?”_

“It wasn’t a plan.  Just happened,” Rick explained, leaning against the brick wall of the hospital.  The sun had set, and Rick had no plans of leaving.  

 _“Fuck outta here,”_ Shane scoffed.   _“Were you vested up?”_

Rick paused, then quietly. “No.”

 _“Never?”_ Shane asked.

“No,” Rick said firmly.

 _“Were you attempting to pull out?_ ”

“Shane–”

_“Did you think she was on the pill?  Cause if not, sounded more like a plan.”_

“We never talked about it,” Rick admitted.  “But I don’t think…I don’t think she was against the idea.”

_“She’s keeping it, then?”_

“Of course,” Rick said with certainty. 

 _“Well, it works out fine, then.  I just need you to do one thing for me, Rick,”_ Shane said.   _“Be honest with her, but more importantly, be honest with yourself, man.  You can’t just make life altering decisions like that.  Not anymore, anyway.”_  Shane sighed into the phone.   _“You aren’t coming back tonight, are you?”_

“I’m gonna stay here, at the hospital with her.  Make sure she stays okay.”

_“Yeah, I get it.”_

“What?  Did you cook or something?” Rick said with a grin.

 _“No, but I did order out._ ”

“Oh, honey,” Rick joked.

_“Stop.  I’ll call Daryl.”_

“Shit, gotta call him, too.”

_“Don’t worry about it.  Go take care of her.  We’ll see you tomorrow.  Celebrate.”_

“Thanks man.  Later.”

Rick hung up the phone, realizing how right Shane was.  He and Michonne needed to discuss what they both wanted.  Rick was so sure about how he felt, and what he wanted.  

It was only now that he realized he had failed to really say any of it.

… …

Rick sat on the edge of the hospital bed, holding her hand.  “Tomorrow will be a fresh start, for both of us,” he said to her.

“Crazy day,” she said.  “Looking forward to tomorrow.”  She squeezed his hand.

“Michonne,” he started.  He paused, then started again.  “I want to go back with you.”

“Back?” she asked.

“I want to _stay_ with you,” he clarified.  “Move in with you.”

“Because of the baby?  Rick, you don’t have to–”

“No.  It’s part of it, but…no.  I’m finalizing my divorce.  I know where my place is, and it’s with you.  I want to wake up every morning next to you, and I want to go to sleep holding you.  Is that okay?”

Michonne interlaced their fingers, giving him a small smile.  “Yeah.  Okay.”


	30. Miles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Backyard barbeque...

A/N: This will be an event that spans two, maybe three chapters. Probably two. And away...We...go!

  


 

 

* * *

 

"I was thinking," Maggie said. She, Sasha and Michonne were sitting in Maggie's living room, watching Angel.

"Hang on," Sasha said, pushing pause. "What's up?"

"A lot's happened this summer, and I was thinking since we missed the fourth, we could have a BBQ here. Co-host it. What do y'all think?"

"I'm in," Michonne said. "It'd be a great way to properly introduce…everyone," she said, glancing at Sasha.

"Yeah," Sasha said dryly. "A real family affair."

"Well that's great," Maggie cut in, trying to detract from Sasha's sarcasm. "You can invite Rick and his son. I'm sure Noah would like that."

"He would." All three women turned at the sound of Abraham's voice. "And I'm glad this Rick is coming, so I can finally meet that Carl's father. Also? Gonna invite Daryl."

"Your boss?" Sasha asked. "Why?"

"He and Rick are friends. Also, he's a guy. Glenn and I have a hard enough time with all of the estrogen at these get-togethers. Wouldn't hurt to level it out."

Sasha rolled her eyes while Michonne smiled. "That's good. About inviting Daryl, I mean. Rick would like that. He has another friend—a cop. All three of them are like brothers. I'll invite him, too."

Sasha cocked her eyebrow up at that. "Why?"

Michonne stared her down, throwing her words back in her face. "Well you said it, sis—a real family affair, right?"

"Good!" Maggie exclaimed. "Glad it's settled. Can we get back to 'The Girl In Question,' please?" Maggie hit the "play" button as Abraham left the room, his hearty chuckle trailing behind him.

. . . . . .

 _"Noah already invited me to the barbeque, dad,"_ Carl said over the phone. Rick was pulling into the garage for Michonne's—their apartment, a sunflower arrangement in the passenger side of the seat.

"Well, I take it you won't have a problem going then," Rick said, parking the car.

_"No, I'm pumped. So…you'll be picking me up then, right?"_

"Of course, Carl. Afterwards, you can come over, if you want," Rick said, uncertain about how Carl felt about his officially moving in with Michonne. He explicitly told Lori not to mention the new baby, as he wanted to do it himself. To Rick's surprise, she had respected his wishes.

 _"If the question is, do I want to hang out in a cool loft over the weekend, the answer is 'yes,'"_ Carl said.

Rick smiled to himself, grabbing the bouquet and getting out of the car. "Good. Looking forward to seeing you soon, son."

. . . . . .

Michonne smiled to herself as she heard the lock turn, and the door open. Still, she kept her back to the door, lightly tossing the kale salad. She exhaled in contentment when she felt his arm wrap around her middle, his lips pressing to her neck.

"Hey," he said, voice low.

She turned her head, kissing him on the lips. "Hey," she said, grinning at him.

He eyed her up and down, then brought his right hand from behind him, showing her the lovely bouquet he'd bought.

"Saw these and thought of you."

Michonne gave him another kiss, this time lingering, then took the flowers, taking a little inhale. "This is beautiful. Thank you."

He kissed her as a response, giving a little squeeze as he did so. He smiled, stepping away, heading to their room to change.

"How was work?" she called out to him.

"Okay. Spoke to the DA today. The trial will be coming up in a couple of months," he called back.

"It'll be over soon?" she asked.

"Yeah. Can't imagine it'll be a long trial. Too much evidence."

Michonne set the table just as Rick came out of the bedroom, dressed in a T-shirt and jogging pants.

"Spoke to Carl," he said, going to the oven to take out the garlic bread.

"Did you tell him?" she asked, pausing midway to placing the salad bowl on the table. Rick paused too, turning his head in her direction, but looking downward.

"No. Not yet. I will this weekend, after the barbeque."

Michonne nodded, resuming setting the table. "He excited?"

"Of course. Especially the part about staying here this weekend," he said with a smile. Michonne smiled back at him.

"I'm glad he's okay with it." She watched him as he finished setting the table, putting the garlic bread in the middle, then going to the microwave, taking out the wrapped plates. Michonne silently wondered to herself, when did they become a well-oiled machine?

"Carl…He's a survivor." Rick's voice snapped her out of her reverie. "Doesn't hurt that he can't help but adore you, though," he said with a shrug and a grin.

Michonne shrugged back at him, a small smile on her face. "The feeling's mutual."

. . . . . .

Rick stared at the doorbell for a moment, frowning, then pushed the button. It didn't take long for Lori to answer, though she opened it slowly. She stood there, arms crossed, staring at him. She peered over his shoulder, looking at his car, frowning when she saw Michonne in the passenger seat.

"You brought her here?" she asked.

"Didn't make much sense to leave her at home, seeing as her sister lives out this way."

Lori stiffened at the use of the word "home," but didn't comment on it. "Carl!" she called behind her. Carl came bounding down the stairs, duffel bag in hand. Lori gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "You be good, okay?"

Carl nodded. "I will." He ran to the car, leaving his parents on the porch. "Hey Michonne!" he yelled, opening the car door.

Lori exhaled heavily at the display. "Did you tell him?"

Rick followed her eyes, seeing the delight on Carl's face. "Not yet. But I will. This weekend."

Lori looked at him. "He needs to hear it from you, Rick. Be sure that he does."

Rick's eyes narrowed as he looked at her, trying to figure out her angle. She stared back, unflinching, then turned her back on him, closing the door. Rick turned away, heading to the car.

He didn't look back.

. . . . . .

Together, Rick, Michonne and Carl headed down the walkway to the gate that lead to the Ford's backyard, the smell of charcoal and meat in the air.

"Oh my god, Michonne!" Beth ran up to her, wrapping her arms around her neck. She pulled back, taking in Michonne's strapless, electric blue peasant dress, draped and pleated in the skirt, and right arm full of skinny, gold bangles, complementing the gold clips that adorned a few of her locks. "I love everything about this look. You’re absolutely stunning. And you're all glowy! I guess it's true what they say—"

Rick reached out a hand, interrupting. "Hi. I'm Rick."

"Oh, yes, this is Rick, and his son Carl. Guys, this is Beth." They all smiled, shaking hands in greeting.

"Rick?"

Rick turned at the sound of the voice—Carol. Rick half frowned and half smiled seeing his sister there. He walked over, giving her a hug.

"Hey. What are you doing here?"

"I was invited, and asked to do some catering. How do you know Glenn?" she asked.

Rick frowned. "Who?"

"Glenn, my husband," Maggie said, giving Rick a hug. "Carol makes pastries and baked goods for my husband's restaurant. That's him over there."

Rick looked up to see Daryl with a red headed man, who he assumed to be Sasha's husband, and an Asian man holding a baby—Glenn.

"Good to see you again," Carol said, giving Michonne a hug. "Carl," she said, hugging her nephew. "Seems like you grew a couple of inches last I saw you."

Carl shook his head. "Nah."

"Bring that platter out, Noah!" Sasha yelled, coming down the steps with a huge, foil pan, covered in foil. She smiled at the small group near the entrance, then walked over to the grill. "I thought you were watching the meat, Abe," she chastised. Abraham rolled his eyes, but excused himself, and met his wife at the hot coals. Daryl and Glenn walked over to Michonne, Rick, Carol and Beth, while Carl walked away, seeing Noah finally come out. Noah handed his mom the platter, then headed over to Carl, performing a secret handshake with him.

"What's up, man?"

"Nothing. Just attempting to enjoy the summer," Carl said.

"That can't be easy, given how things are," Noah commented, both boys looking over at Rick and Michonne. Glenn had handed Michonne the baby, and she held her to her chest, eyes closed, a small smile on her face. Carl couldn't tell, but she may have cried a little.

Noah looked at him. "You excited?"

"About what?" Carl asked, curious.

"About being a big brother. Kind of jealous, honestly."

Carl frowned, staring at Noah in silence. Then— "…Oh."

"Dude…you have got to be _kidding_ me. You didn't know about that either?”  Noah sighed in exasperation.  “Please don't be mad."

Carl watched as his father gently stroked Michonne's back, looking—no — _gazing_ at her lovingly as she held the baby. Carl swallowed.

"No. Not mad. Not mad at all."

. . . . . .

"Mind if I steal them away for a moment?" Glenn said to the group, taking Michonne gently by the elbow and leading her into the house.

"You okay?" he asked her.

Michonne handed him the baby, then wiped at her eyes a bit. "Yeah. I'm good."

"Are you ready for this?"

Michonne sighed, leaning against the counter. "I don't know, I…. I haven't been able to go. To his grave. Andre's grave," she said solemnly. "I can't bring myself to do it. Not yet. Not now. I don't feel strong enough," she confessed, looking at him.

Glenn gave her a sad smile. "Michonne, you're stronger than you know. Besides, you gotta be. Your baby will need you."

Michonne looked at him, her eyes sad. "Do you think it was wrong?" she asked. "Getting pregnant. Moving on like this…"

"Hey," he said, walking over to her, hugging her with one arm. "It's okay. You didn't do anything wrong. You loved Andre with all your heart. And you have more love to give. Miles to go before you sleep, right?"

Michonne nodded, hugging him back. "Yeah. Miles to go."


	31. Shindig

A/N: So, a lot of people are wondering what Sasha's deal, is. Sasha is speaking for that section of the audience who was decidedly not okay with the situation. I lost some readers after that twist. However, I think Sasha is a voice, while unpopular, is true to reality. No matter where people's hearts are, some would still be decidedly not okay with Rick's choice. Anyway, hope this is a happy read!

* * *

"Rick, you feeling a bit better about the baby?" Hershel asked. Daryl passed Rick a beer, toasting him. A smile bloomed on Rick's face.

"I never felt bad about it, Hershel. I'm…it feels right, ya know?" Rick glanced over at Carl and Noah. "Trying to keep it quiet, though. I haven't told my son, yet."

Carol frowned. "You should really get on that, Rick. It could come up at any time."

"She's right," Maggie said. "I think just about everyone here knows."

Rick nodded. "Excuse me," he said, heading to the house, feeling the need to both check on Michonne as well as consult her.

… …

"You don't look okay," Noah said to Carl. They were sitting on Noah's old swing set, down and across from the patio in the yard.

"I am, I just…this is like the third, big thing I had to find out from someone else."

"Maybe your dad was just waiting for the right time," Noah suggested.

"How did you find out?" Carl asked.

Noah waved his hand dismissively. "I just heard my parents talking about it, man. No one actually told me. Figured you knew cause he's your dad. I mean, why wouldn't you know, you know?"

Carl picked at his thumb nail, contemplatively. "I wonder how long it'll take him."

"To what?" Noah asked.

"To tell me. I'm gonna wait. See what he does."

"That's some sneaky shit, bro."

"I'm not…not trying to be sneaky. But I just want to know how long he'll keep it from me."

"And if it takes him a long time? What will that mean?"

Carl watched as his dad headed into the house. "I don't know. But it'll mean something."

… …

"Um, hey. Everything okay?" Rick said, cautiously stepping into the kitchen.

Glenn, who had been hugging Michonne, looked at him and nodded, releasing her. He adjusted Josie in his arms and said. "Yeah, I think so. I'll see you out there."

Rick cocked his head, observing Michonne quietly. She stared at her gladiator sandals, lost in thought. "Can you show me where the bathroom is?" he asked abruptly. That shook her out of her stupor.

"Yeah," she said, finally looking at him, making Rick feel relieved. She took his hand. "Follow me."

… …

"So. What made you decide to start Dixon Drives?" Beth asked, mouth poised over the rim of her red, plastic cup, full of fruit punch.

Daryl looked away. "I dunno. Was just bored with corporate shit, I guess."

Beth laughed. "So you decided to make your own corporation?"

Daryl bit his lower lip. "I wouldn't call it that, exactly. No one wears a suit. No boring, golf outings."

Beth gave a genuine smile. "You're an interesting man, Daryl." She stepped closer to him and whispered, "And I'd like to get to know you better." She smiled once more then turned away, heading over to her sister and father.

"She's a little young for you, isn't she?"

Daryl turned at the sound of Carol's voice. "She's twenty. Besides, I thought age was just a number. I recall a hot, twenty-one-year-old saying that to me on my seventeenth birthday."

Carol smirked. "Yes, that is right. I had you first."

Daryl smirked back, shaking his head. "Crazy times."

Carol patted his chest affectionately. "If you take her out, though, make sure she's back by curfew." Carol winked at him, walking off.

Daryl rolled his eyes. "Funny."

"Talking about that time Carol popped your cherry, huh?" Daryl turned and saw Shane. He playfully shoved him.

"Come on, man. Don't sneak up on me like that."

"Rick know about that yet?"

Daryl shrugged. "I doubt he'd want to. Story as old as dirt anyway. No one cares."

"I don't know, brother. People always care—old shit, new shit. As long as it's shit to talk about, you know? Where's our boy, anyway?"

Daryl jerked his head towards the house. "In there."

… …

"I'll wait out here," Michonne said.

Rick rolled his eyes, not letting go of her hand, and taking her into the quiet of the bathroom, closing the door, candlelight illuminating the room. "I didn't really have to go," he said, standing in front of her. Michonne leaned against the sink, looking at him in flickering candle light. "I just wanted to check on you," he said.

She dropped her head. "I'm okay," she murmured.

"Hey. Can you look at me?"

Slowly, she raised her head, her eyes sad. Rick gently brushed the apple of her cheek. "What is it?" he asked gently.

"I just…holding Josie…Realizing that I haven't… I haven't been to Andre's grave, Rick. I don't know if I can. And I feel…it hurts not to, but it'll hurt if I do go, and I don't know what to do. I just don't know," she finished quietly, crying.

"Come here," he said, pulling her to him, holding her. He kissed her forehead as she wrapped her arms around him. She looked up at him, staring into his eyes. "We can go together," he said quietly. "I'm with you. Whatever you need. Okay?"

Michonne nodded, then kissed him. He kissed her back, tasting her sorrow, feeling it charge and change into need; heat; want; desire. She pulled back, staring at him. Rick swallowed.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Yeah," she confirmed, turning in his arms, hands resting on the sink as he pulled up the pleated skirts of her dress, staring at her in the large vanity mirror as he did so. One hand caressed her, pulling her lace panties to the side while his other hand unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans.

"Oh," he groaned low in his throat, positioning himself behind her. He braced one hand on the wall next to the mirror while Michonne brought one leg up, resting her knee on the sink. With one long, hard, thrust he was inside, marveling at how wet she was for him. Their eyes locked on each other in their reflections in the mirror, tinted an orange glow from the lone candle as he moved slowly and deeply inside of her, eliciting high pitched gasps from her parted mouth. He'd pull almost all the way out, then thrust in, hard, hand gripping her hip tightly. Rick hooked his chin on her shoulder, stubble tickling her skin, breath warm on her clavicle as he panted. She leaned forward a bit, hovering over the sink, as he quickened his pace.

"Uh!" she gasped loudly as he pounded into her, rubbing her at the same time. Michonne's eyes shut tightly when she felt it, riding out the wave as he continued to pump into her. Seeing her face in utter pleasure and feeling her convulse around him sent him over the edge right alongside her.

… …

Sasha backed away from the door, appalled and disgusted Michonne would do _that_ in her bathroom. Shaking her head, she headed back down the stairs, fleeing to the distraction of the party.


	32. Hootenanny

A/N: The bathroom scene--it was solace more than anything.  We have two people who love each other, and one who is in emotional pain.  Yes, there’s passion between them, but sometimes, the purpose of sex is comfort.  Just wanted to clear that up!

Also, apologies for any and all typos!

* * *

 

“You okay?”

Sasha jerked her head in Abe’s direction, mouth agape in horror from the turmoil of her own thoughts.  Sasha mentally shook herself.

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look it,” Abe countered.

Sasha snatched the tongs from him, angrily rotating the links of sausage on the grill.  “I _look_  just fine,” she muttered.

“Hell, you look beautiful, Sash.  But also horrified and angry.  What’s eating you?  I know I didn’t do anything.”

“Leave it alone,” she said fiercely, glancing at him.  He nodded, picking up the container of garlic powder, seasoning the burgers without a word.

. . . . . .

“Hey--”  Rick grasped her bracelet-free wrist, making her pause at the top of the carpeted stair landing.  “You sure you’re okay?”

She looked at his face, so full of concern and worry.  She smiled at him, nodding.  “I’m better.”

He smiled back, and together, they headed to the party.  Once outside, Rick was immediately accosted by Shane who embraced him in a serious bear hug, lifting off the ground.  He gave Michonne a hearty hug as well, whispering, “Congrats” into her ear.

“Thanks, Shane.”

“Hey, I think you’re making a great addition to the family,” he said with a wink.  The pun was not lost on Michonne.  “Hey, Ricky blue eyes, you gonna have a drink with me man, or what?” 

Rick smiled, grabbing a beer from the cooler, toasting Shane.

Michonne walked over to Carl and Noah.  “Enjoying the party?” she asked them.

Noah sighed.  “Honestly?  We’d rather be inside, playing the Wii, but...”

“But?” Michonne pressed.

“Noah’s mom wants him to stay out here to ‘mingle,’” Carl explained with air quotes.

“Why?”  Michonne looked around at the partygoers.  “Nothing but a bunch of old farts out here. Well, compared to you two.”  She looked at them, considering.  “Follow me.”

Carl and Noah smiled, feeling triumphant as they followed her.  Without a word, she escorted them into the house and to the finished basement where the game was.

“I doubt you two will be missed, and if you are, I’ll take care of it,” she said with a wink.  “I’ll come get you when the food’s ready.”

“Michonne?” Carl called out.

She turned back.

“Thanks,” he said with a smile.  “You seem like a good...thank you.”

Michonne beamed at him, then departed.  

“I swear.  I have the best aunt in the world,” Noah said, handing Carl a controller.

“Yeah,” Carl agreed.  “She’s pretty great.”

. . . . . .

“Ah, there she is,” Shane said, greeting Michonne back to the group.  “Was just telling Rick what a lucky man he is.”

“I’m aware,” Rick said, expression soft as he looked at her.

“You got a sister, or...”

“Yes, but, she’s married,” Michonne said, glancing in Sasha’s direction.

Shane scoffed.  “Yeah, like that’s a deterrent.”

“Don’t matter anyway,” Daryl said.  “They look like decent people.  You wouldn’t fit in.”

Shane laughed.  “The man’s got jokes, okay.”

“If Rick holds him in high esteem, he can’t be all bad,” Michonne said.

Shane slung his arm around her.  “See, I knew I liked you.”

“Actually, if you’re serious, I may know of someone for you.”

“Shane’s rarely serious,” Rick said.

“Hey, you don’t know. I’ve got layers.”

“Yeah,” Daryl said.  “Layers of bullshit.”

“What about you?”  Daryl turned to see Beth behind him.  “What kind of layers do you have?”

“Who said the simple fucker had any?” Shane joked.

Sasha came over, concern on her face.  “Where’s Noah and Carl?” she asked no one in particular.

“They’re in the basement playing a game,” Michonne said.

Sasha swiveled her around to her.  “They’re what? I told that boy to stay out here.”

“I told them it was okay.  They were pretty bored out here.  Didn’t think it was a big deal,” Michonne explained.

Sasha cocked her head at her sister in disbelief.  “Oh, _you_  didn’t think it was a big deal, and that made it alright?”

“Sasha--”

“He is _my_ son, Michonne.  He does what I tell him to do.  Not you.”

“Hey, it’s their summer vacation,” Rick interjected.  “II’m sure them playing video games isn’t gonna--”

“Who asked _you_?” Sasha said.

“Sasha, calm down,” Michonne.

“No, this is my house, Michonne  My house and _my_  rules.  And how dare you desecrate my house!”

“Well, we all know who the fun sister is,” Shane muttered to Daryl, taking a swig.

“This is going nowhere good real fast,” he muttered back.

Michonne shook her head at her.  “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about,” Sasha turned her narrowed eyes on Rick, “This man turning my sister into an adulterer, and doing it in _my_  house.”

Michonne looked taken aback by that.  “That wasn’t what you thought it was.”

“Hey--we live together, my divorce will be finalized soon, and we’re starting a--we’re starting a _family_.”  Rick whispered the last bit.

“Sasha?  You wanna finish off the vegetables?” Abraham asked her.  “Or maybe cool down for a bit?”

“Abraham--”

“Enough,” Hershel said.  “We are going to sit down and break bread in peace.  Enough of this nonsense.”

Sasha rolled her eyes, then stormed back over to the grill.

“You okay?” Maggie asked Michonne.  Michonne nodded, but didn’t say anything.

. . . . . .

Carol, sitting under the tent with Glenn and the baby, watched on.  

“She’s a bit high strung, huh?” Carol said dryly.

“She’ll um...”  Glenn sighed.  “Yeah.  Maggie mentioned she wasn’t taking that situation well. I mean I get it, but Michonne’s her sister.  And it’s not that cut and dry.”

“In this life,” Carol said, “what is?”

. . . . . .

“Rick?”  Abraham looked at him.  “Mind if I talk to you up front?”

Rick stared at him for a moment, rubbing his thumb and index finger.  He glanced at Michonne before looking back at Abe, nodding in agreement.  The two men walked around to the front, sitting on the front porch bench.

“Sorry for that drama back there.  My wife’s very...hmm...”

“Uptight?” Rick supplied with a grin.  Abraham frowned at him.  Rick shrugged.  “I meant no disrespect.”

Abraham sighed. “Well, it’s true.  But I only feel comfortable if I say that.”

Rick nodded.  “I get it.”

“About what she said though....you and Michonne.  You in this for the long haul?”

Rick chuckled.  “You her father now?”

Abraham leaned forward in his seat.  “No, I’m her big brother.  You gonna answer?”

Rick frowned thoughtfully.  “It’s good that she has you.  Glenn.  Hershel.  Me,” Rick added.  “I’ll be here as long as she’ll have me,” Rick said seriously.

Abraham grunted.  “Well, that’s good to know.”

“Is that the only reason why you called me out here?”

“No.  We’re going to be in each other’s orbits a lot more, now.  Not just Michonne, but my son and yours.  Carl seems like a good kid.”

“And I feel the same about Noah.”

“You and Carl ever go camping?”

“Not really, no,” Rick said.

“I do,” Abraham said.  “I like to take the boy at the end of summer each year.  He may not hate it so much if Carl came along.  Could be a real boys weekend.  Or something.”

“Yeah.  We can do that.”

Abraham clapped Rick on the back, hard.  “Good.  Glad we were able to work all that out.  Welcome to the family, Rick.”

. . . . . .

The rest of the BBQ was fairly uneventful.  The food was served, and everyone sat down to eat.  Sasha was sullen, while Michonne was quiet.  Rick quietly held her hand under the table, offering support.  The first few minutes of eating was strained, but gradually eased up from talks of TV to politics to travel.  Still, shortly after the food was eaten and more drinks were poured, Michonne was ready to leave.  Carl, wasn’t crazy about leaving so soon, but perked back up upon learning about the impending camping trip.  Everyone said their goodbyes, except for Michonne and Sasha.  Michonne remained quiet until the three of them got to the car.

“You wanna drive?” Rick asked.

Michonne nodded, taking the keys.

Carl, sitting in the back, looked between her and his dad.  “Michonne?” he asked.  “Are you okay?”

Michonne looked at him through the rear view mirror.  “I’m okay.”

Rick grasped her hand again, giving it a squeeze.  He frowned, turning in his seat to look at Carl.  “Actually son, some of that tension back there...Noah’s mom isn’t pleased about how things are going with me and Michonne.  It’s all complicated.”

“Yeah,” Carl said.  “I figured.”

Rick nodded, looking down.  “Uh...still, there’s something you should know.”  Rick looked at Michonne, who glanced at him, giving an imperceptible nod.

Carl sat up a bit.  “What?  What should I know?”

Rick smiled at him.  “I know you’ve been wanting that dog--”

“You guys are getting me a dog?” Carl exclaimed.

“No.  Even better.  Carl, you’re gonna be a big brother.”

Carl gave a little chuckle.  “Okay.”

“You really okay with that?” Rick asked.

“Yeah, Dad, that’s...it’s cool,” Carl said sincerely.  “Can’t wait.”


	33. Enterrement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michonne and Carl have some quality time.

[Previous parts here. ](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11915760/1/Useful-to-You) Thanks to everyone who’s reviewed, and for sticking around ^_^  Also, [the lemon ricotta pancakes mentioned](http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/bobby-flay/lemon-ricotta-pancakes-with-lemon-curd-and-fresh-raspberries-recipe.html) by Bobby Flay–I made them before, and they are amazeballs.  

  


 

 

* * *

 

_She was in her office, but she could distinctly hear the sound of running water, rushing and loud. She got up from behind her desk, heading to the door.  Placing her hand on the knob, she paused.  Something didn’t feel right.  Something didn’t feel…_

_She yanked it open and saw her bathroom.  She frowned, as she thought that door had been locked.  The frown deepened when she saw herself, kneeling in front of the tub, arms plunged deeply into it.  The water near the brim as it continued to run.  There was some splashing there, but she couldn’t see from what._

_And then she was there, at the water, no longer in the doorway.  She looked over her shoulder and saw Mike where she once stood._

_“You did this,” he said flatly.  
_

_She frowned, confused.  “Did what?”_

_She turned back to the tub, seeing Andre, submerged under the water, looking up at her, smiling, arms outstretched from below, the water now running red.  Still, he looked at her, so trusting, so–_

“Michonne!”

She woke up with a gasp, sweaty, shaking.  Rick’s hand was on her shoulder, firmly.  He was hovering over her, eyes calm.  “Hey, you’re okay now, you’re okay…”  

With a sob she fell against Rick’s chest, tears falling on his skin, desperate to find comfort in his arms.  She couldn’t go back to sleep; she just couldn’t.  Holding her close, Rick stayed up with her, all night.

… …

“Jesus man, you look like shit,” Shane said, handing Rick a cup of coffee.  Rick gave him a grateful look, taking a sip.

“Didn’t get a whole lot of sleep,” Rick explained.

Shane smirked, sitting across from Rick at his desk.  “That right?”

“No, it’s not what you…Michonne had a terrible nightmare.  She was inconsolable for most of the night.”

Shane frowned.  “Nightmare?  About what?”

Rick shrugged.  “I can only guess.  She didn’t want to talk about it.  But it was pretty bad.”

“She ever have nightmares like that before?”

“Not with me, no.”

“Carl still there?” Shane asked.

“Yeah.  They’re gonna spend the day together.”

“You sure that’s a good idea?  She and Carl one on one like that?” he asked, skeptical.

Rick glanced at Shane over the styrofoam rim of his cup before responding.  “Carl adores her.  They’ll be okay.”

… …

“Morning.”

Michonne looked over her shoulder, seeing Carl, still in his t-shirt and plaid pajama bottoms, take a seat at the kitchen island.  She smiled.

“Morning.  You like pancakes?” she asked, pouring the ricotta and lemon batter into a hot pan.

“Usually at a restaurant.  We have pancakes every Sunday, and um…they’re okay.”

“Well,” Michonne said, putting some turkey bacon into a separate pan.  “Being pregnant means you get cravings, and…okay, I’m lying.  I just love pancakes.  And these are guaranteed to be special,” she said with a wink.

Carl looked at his hands, then grabbed the salt shaker, sliding it back and forth across the marble island top.  “So…do you know what you want?” he asked.

Michonne frowned.  “What I want?”

He looked up at her.  “The baby, I mean.  Boy or girl?”

Michonne gave a strained smile, then turned back to the bacon and pancakes, checking things.  Then, “Doesn’t matter so much.  Just healthy.  That’s all I feel right to ask for.”

Carl nodded.  “That makes sense.  I guess you haven’t thought about names, then.”

Michonne turned back to him.  “No, haven’t thought about that either.”

“So like,” Carl pressed.  “Will the baby…will it be a Grimes too?  Or will it have your last name?”

“I don’t know,” Michonne said honestly.  “Maybe both?”

“Can I help with the name?” Carl asked quietly.  “I don’t have any ideas, but…I wanna help.”

Michonne smiled, amused.  “If you want to make suggestions, that is perfectly fine.  Doesn’t mean I’ll necessarily take it, but, I’m open to hearing it.  That’s the honest answer.”

“Cool.  I like that.  You don’t talk to me like some dumb kid who doesn’t get things.”

She shrugged, flipping the pancake.  “You’re a bright young man.  How else am I supposed to treat you?”

Carl put the salt shaker back next to the pepper one.  “I think…if it’s a boy.  I think you should name him Logan Grimes.  That way, he’d have both your names.”

Michonne felt tears spring to her eyes, but didn’t know why.  Not really.  She didn’t turn back around, but responded, “Makes perfect sense.”

… …

Rick opened the door later that evening to the sound of laughter.  He saw Michonne and Carl, sitting on the floor at the coffee table playing a card game.

“Hey,” he said, smiling at the display.  Neither looked up to greet him.

“Quiet Dad, I need to concen–”

“I win!” Michonne yelled, throwing her hands in the air after getting rid of all of her cards.  She looked at Rick, her smile wide.  “Hey!”

Carl threw his remaining cards on the table.  “Damn,” Carl said.  “I blame you for that,” he said to his dad, mock angry.

“Can’t blame him.  I beat you before that last round,” she said, standing.

“Maybe, but I won the first round,” he countered.

Michonne smirked.  “I won _last_.”  She walked over to Rick while Carl shuffled the cards.  “Hey,” she said softly, hugging him.  “Sorry about last night,” she murmured. 

“It’s okay,” he said, hugging her back.  “Are you okay?”

Michonne pulled back.  “We had a good day today,” she said.  Rick didn’t comment on her not answering his question, and let her continue.  “We went to the science museum, the Cheesecake Factory, then ended here.”

Rick looked over at Carl, hand on Michonne’s shoulder.  “I’m glad you two had fun.”  He dropped a kiss on Michonne’s forehead.  “I’m gonna go change.”

Though he wasn’t surprised at how well they had gotten along, he was happy about it all the same.  Still, he wanted know had upset Michonne.  He wanted her to talk to him.

He wanted to help.

… …

That night, she lay in his arms, facing him, fingers running through his hair.

“Talk to me,” he said simply.

“Nothing. Just shouldn’t have had that chocolate cake late last night.”

She stared at him, fingers still soothingly raking over his scalp.  Rick took her hand down, kissing it before holding it.  He didn’t want her to stop, but it was making him even more drowsy than he already was.

He suspected she knew that, though.

“Tell me,” he said quietly, pleading.

Michonne sighed, looking away, but burrowed into his embrace under the covers.

“It was…my nightmare.  I dreamed I had held Andre under water.  That I killed him,” she confessed quietly.

“Sweetheart–”

“I know that I didn’t.  I know.  But I wasn’t there, Rick.  I wasn’t home.  If I had–”  She shut her eyes tight, wrapping her arm over his side and across his back.  “I wasn’t there, and I should have been.”  Grief overtook her voice.

Rick held her close, kissing her bare shoulder, then her forehead.  “It wasn’t you.  It’s not your fault.”  He kissed her lips sweetly, then held her to him once more.

She cried quietly in his arms a bit, then fell asleep.  Rick watched, staring at the lovely planes of her face until he fell asleep, too.


	34. Bereavement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lori is jealous of Michonne's pancakes.

A/N: This chapter took some unexpected turns [for me]. I hope you're pleased with the results. And as always, please let me know your thoughts ;) I'll also take the time to apologize once again for any typos. It's after 2AM and I have to be up at six, and I'm over here writing Richonne cause I have a problem, obviously. They were all like, "Lol, F your sleep, Jill!" and made me write this now, so...I hope it "works," ya know? Thank ya!

* * *

Michonne looked up to the sound of knocking on her open, office door. "Look at you, working on the Lord's day. Long time, no see."

She scowled at the smiling face in her doorway. "With good reason."

"He's my best friend, Michonne," Terry said as he entered the room. "I wouldn't expect you to choose oh say, Maggie over me."

"Maggie would never be foolish enough to find herself in circumstances such as this," Michonne said bitterly.

Terry sobered at that. "He's like my brother. And he's hurting, bad."

Michonne shrugged, turning back to the file in her hands as if Terry's presence was of no consequence. "That's too bad."

He stared at her in disbelief. "How can you be so cold? You two were lovers-"

"Don't...don't say that," she said, her voice low, but with an edge.

"He needs you," Terry argued.

"I don't care," Michonne said blithely.

"Oh, so what, you just moved on?" he asked, incredulous.

"I..." Michonne paused, turning towards her trash can, grabbing it, and upchucking all of her Tom Yum soup from lunch.

Terry veered back in disgust. "Jesus, are you sick or something?"

Michonne spit a bit, then grabbed her ginger ale bottle, taking a drink. "Yes," she said after a healthy swig. "I'm 'sick or something.' Please go. And don't send Mike my regards."

Michonne kept her eyes on him until he left, listening to his footfalls go down the hallway. She clasped her hands, leaning her forehead against them with her eyes closed, tired.

"You okay?" she heard Rosita ask from the doorway. Michonne didn't look up at her.

"Not quite. But I will be."

. . . . . .

Lori opened the door, a huge smile on her face as she embraced Carl into a hug, and ignored Rick altogether. "I'm so glad you're home," she said, dropping a kiss on his head.

"It was _awesome_. Mom, Noah and his dad invited me and Dad on a camping trip in a few weeks. I went to the museum, the Cheesecake Factory-they have like, a hundred different kinds of cheesecake-and had these gourmet pancakes-"

"They make pancakes at the Cheesecake Factory?" Lori asked.

"No, Michonne made them." Carl paused in his glee as he looked at his mother's face. Carl turned to his dad, only to see him look away, shaking his head. "I just meant...they're different, is all," Carl finished lamely.

"I see," Lori said stiffly.

"I'm gonna put my stuff away," Carl mumbled. "See ya, Dad." Carl darted up the steps, wanting to escape his faux pas.

"She makes better pancakes than me." Lori took a deep breath, looking at the ceiling before bursting into tears. Rick grabbed a paper towel, handing it to her. She didn't take it, keeping her back to him.

"Lori, now...he didn't mean it like that."

Slowly Lori turned around, taking the paper towel, then taking another step, hugging Rick. Rick frowned, but hugged her back.

"She's stealing my little boy," she cried onto his shoulder. Slowly Rick hugged her back, then quickly pulled away when she tried to kiss him.

Lori dropped her head, embarrassed. "I'm sorry," she muttered, wiping her face.

"That's okay," he said, taking a step back.

"I know about her, you know," she said once she gained her composure. "She's nothing special."

"Lori, don't-"

"Rick, she is using you. She's using you cause she lost her little boy."

Rick exhaled. "No, that's not what it is," Rick said firmly, though his posture was lax as he leaned against the counter. "She loves me, and I love her. And you know what? I don't have to defend us to you."

"That's right. I'm the nobody that happens to be your _wife_ ," she said sarcastically. 

"The days on that are winding down." After her bristling at the statement, he added, "I'm sorry it all went down how it did, I really am, but Jesus Christ, Lori, get over it."

"You could have waited, you know?" Her voice was on the verge of yelling. "Waited to be with... _her._ "

"I thought about that. But would it have really mattered? Would we have been any better off if I stayed here? Would we have been happier? Made it work?"

"I don't know, Rick. Now we'll never know," she said, crossing her arms.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, sincere.

"When did it start? How long were you..." She stopped, looking away, clamping her mouth shut as if it pained her to finish the sentence. Perhaps it did.

Rick got a faraway look in his eyes, remembering. "After...after I was shot. After the hospital. After you told me you saw a divorce attorney," he finished, looking at her.

"And I told you I took it back," she argued.

" _After_ ," Rick continued, "You said you wanted a divorce. After you _threatened_ to take my son away from _me_ , Lori. After you _accused me_ , in front of our son that I didn't love my family. After I knew, even if I didn't say it, after I _knew_ you didn't love me anymore." He stared at her for a moment, then shook his head. "After I knew I wasn't in love with you," he finished quietly.

"You were seeing her that whole time?" Lori more accused than asked.

"No. As I said, there was nothing physical until after I got out of that hospital. But I had fallen for her long before then. It happened, and I put it aside. I ignored it. For you. For us. I tried, Lori, I really did. But I realized...I didn't matter to you half as much until you thought I was gone. I shouldn't have to be at Death's door for you to want to be with me."

"Well, congratulations, Rick," Lori said in a mocking tone, spreading her arms wide. "You _won_."

Rick just stared at her before walking away. He wished it was the last time, but knew it wouldn't be. He was tired of arguing with her; he had been for some time. Besides, he had more important things to worry about.

. . . . . .

"Where are we headed?" Michonne asked from the passenger side, looking out the window.

"It's a nice, Sunday afternoon. Figured we could make a stop, then maybe go out for dinner. Have a few drinks..." Rick trailed off.

"What are we..." Michonne paused, recognizing the streets and where they were headed. She blinked, then shook her head in disbelief as he turned a corner, pulling up to the iron gates. "No...NO!" she said, turning in the seat to face him. "Rick...stop the car. Stop it, _now_."

"I will," he said with determination.

"Don't..." Michonne paused, attempting to stay calm. "Turn around. Don't go in here!" she yelled, voice in a panic. Fear had won out.

Rick gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white, going forward.

"I need you to know that I'm doing this for you," he said, eyes on the road in front of him. "I know that you're scared. But I told you that I'm with you, remember? You don't have to be afraid." He took a moment to glance at her, and wished he hadn't. Tears were streaming down her face, as she looked at him as if he was betraying her somehow.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because...I know there are things you want to say. Waiting for the right moment...there's no such thang as the right moment, Michonne. Only right now. It'll be okay, I promise." He pulled up next to the large oak tree that served as a marker to the plot.

Rick took a calming breath, then got out of the car, walking over to the passenger side to open the door for her. He held it open, while she sat still, staring straight ahead. "Michonne?" he called. She didn't look at him, but gave him her hand, letting him help her out of the car. In a daze, she let him guide her Andre's grave. She looked at it and saw that the headstone was up. It was lovely, as far as headstones go. A rich, gray marble with his face in the center, a race car on the left and Mickey Mouse on the right, etched into it. Michonne squeezed Rick's hand as she ran her fingers of her free one lightly across the top of the stone, a shaky sigh leaving her lips.

"My little boy...my angel," she whispered. "I'm so, so sorry." She wiped at her face. "I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry you had to suffer. I'm sorry you aren't here," she sniffed. "But you," she touched her heart. "You're always, _always_ with me. Until I give my last breath, _you,_ Andre Anthony, are forever in my heart." She turned to Rick, wrapping her arms around him, crying as she did so. She looked up at the sky as she held him, exhaling as her tears continued, though they had eased. "Thank you," she said into his ear. "Thank you..."


	35. September

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Problems keep knocking at Michonne's door...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Sorry for the hiatus! I am juggling a lot of writing projects, and I still have to do that article on meeting Danai... Trying like hell to catch up. Given I just updated this, you can totally see my priorities are shit. Well, as far as fandom is concerned, maybe on point? I dunno :P

Michonne ran her fingers through Rick’s curls as he pressed his ear to her bare belly.  They were lying in bed, sheets, pillows and blanket somehow on the floor with their clothes after intense lovemaking session.  Michonne chuckled.

“I’m sure he’s okay,” she said comfortingly. 

“Or she,” Rick said.  He gave her slightly rounded belly a kiss.  “Daddy’s sorry.”

“Daddy worries too much,” Michonne said, smiling at him.  He sat up and gave her a kiss.  “Do you want a girl?” she asked, curious.

Rick shrugged, smiling.  “A little girl to spoil and protect?

“Oh no--no spoiling.”

Rick sat up on his elbow next to her.  “Oh, you wouldn’t be able to stop me.  Hell, I wouldn’t be able to help myself. Wouldn’t want to.”

“What if it’s a boy?” she asked.

Rick brushed her hair back, giving her a dreamy eyed stare.  “I’d like that, too.”

Michonne squint her eyes at him, realizing... “You’d want more?  After this?”

“I always wanted four.  At least two, but preferably four,” he said.  “Lori wasn’t...Being a dad is one of my greatest joys.  Being a parent with you--I’m ready,” he said.

Michonne cupped his cheek.  “I’m ready, too.”

Rick turned his head, kissing her palm.  “I’m gonna miss you this weekend,” he murmured. 

“I’m sure you and the boys will have fun.”

Rick stared at her, concerned.  “Do you think you and Sasha may talk?”

That wiped the smile off of Michonne’s face.  She turned away, getting out of bed.  Rick flopped back against the mattress, exhaling.  “She’s your sister.”

“Maybe she should act like it,” Michonne countered, putting on his white T-shirt.  “I’m gonna get some water.  Want some?”

“Yeah,” Rick said, watching her walk away, the hem of his shirt just barely covering her ass.  “What am I gonna do with that woman?” he wondered aloud.

. . . . . 

“Not much you can do,” Abraham said.  They were driving along in Abe’s Winnebago, with Rick riding shotgun, and Carl and Noah playing cards at the able in the back.  “They just gotta work it out in their own time.”

“She misses her. I know it.”

“Sasha misses her, too.  She’s prone to letting her ego win out, but, she’ll get over it.”

“By when?  Before Thanksgiving, I hope.  That’ll make for a miserable time,” Rick said.

Abraham chuckled.  “Hell, it’s pretty miserable now.  She’s antsy and always in a snit.  She knows she made a mistake.  She’ll come around.  But trust me, Rick,” Abe said, looking over at him.  “Don’t get in the middle of this.  They gotta work it out on their own.”

Rick cocked his eyebrow.  “What makes you think I’ll try to get in the middle.”

“That’s what you do, ain’t it?  Rushing in to be the hero.  Saw your damn cape a mile away.  Michonne can handle Sasha.  Just leave ‘em to it,” Abe said, eyes on the road.

Rick sighed, looking out the window.  Abraham was right, about all of it.  Rick hated seeing Michonne take it so hard on the chin, but knew better than to meddle in family affairs.  Still, like most times, he found his thoughts drifting to her, and wondered if she was okay.

. . . . . .

Michonne frowned at her phone; stared at it; willed it to ring.  It didn’t.

”Stubborn bitch,” she muttered, picking it up and dialing the familiar number.  It rang once.  Twice. Three times. Four.  Five--

_”Hello?”_

”Sasha. Hey,” she said uneasily, rubbing at her forehead.

 _”Hey,”_ Sasha responded dryly.

”How are you?” Michonne asked.

 _”Fine,”_ Sasha said curtly.

”You know...I was trying to be nice.  Be the bigger person.  But if you’re just gonna act like--” 

 _”Act like_ what _?”_ Sasha cut in.

”You know what? Forget it,” Michonne said.  A knock at her door gave her pause to hanging up the phone.

_”Michonne, wait--”_

Michonne walked to the door, looked through the peephole and swallowed.  “Fuck,” she whispered.  “I’ll call you back,” she said to Sasha, hitting the “end” button.

Brow furrowed in confusion, she slowly opened the door.  
  
"May I come in?"  Lori gave her a look that let Michonne know that there was only one acceptable answer to her query. _  
_

_'She's Carl's mother.  She's Carl's mother...'_

Michonne stepped aside, nodding, letting Lori enter.  She closed the door, locking it, then stared at Lori, waiting.  

Lori ignored her, however, taking a slow walk around the apartment.  "Nice place," she commented.  "Looks expensive."

"It’s what I can afford it," Michonne said calmly.

"Hmm," Lori said, picking up a beaded, fringe pillow from the couch.

"So, what brings you here?" Michonne asked, getting right to it.

Lori opened up her purse, and pulled out a manila envelope.  Keeping her eyes on Michonne, she dropped it with a "plop" onto the glass coffee table.  "Divorce papers.  Rick just has to sign it, and we're officially done."

“In the eyes of the law, yes,” Michonne said quietly, but firmly.

Lori stood to her full height, then walked closer to Michonne.  “You’re pleased with yourself, aren’t you?”

Michonne’s brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“You stole my husband--”

“I absolutely did _not_ \--”

“And now you’re trying to steal my son.”

Michonne looked at Lori as if she were crazy.  “Have you lost it?”

Lori scoffed.  “You should wear a scarlet letter, you know that?”

Michonne laughed, dropping her head.  “Wow.  Okay.  Given that Rick picked up Carl a few hours ago, I know you know he’s not here.”  Michonne looked at Lori dead on.  “So go ahead.  Get it all off your chest.  Say what you need to say. Then I want you to leave.  I would add ‘never com back,’ but that wouldn’t be fair.”  Mihonne stepped closer.  “Cause you and me?  We’re gonna be in each other’s lives for  good, long while.”

Lori’s mouth tightened.  “You won’t be able to keep him.”

“Oh, no?” Michonne asked, her tone mocking.

“I know Rick,” Lori said with a smile.

“You do, do you?” Michonne asked with a smile of her own.

“Sooner or later, he’ll find someone else to save.  And you and your son won’t matter--”

SLAP.

The back of Michonne’s hand stung from going across Lori’s right cheek. Lori held her face, looking at Michonne, shocked.  Michonne took a calming breath.

“You’re sore about your divorce.  I get it.  But if you ever mention my son again, I swear to...”  Michonne trailed off, taking a few steps back.  “You don’t even know how good you’ve got it, do you?”  Michonne looked at her, eyes shining.  “You have a wonderful son, who will grow up to be a fine young man one day.  A _good_  man.  You played a part in that, and so did Rick.  He’s a good man, too, but you couldn’t see it.  I did.  You don’t get to bitch about someone picking up what you purposely left behind.”

Lori blinked, looking away, ashamed.  She looked back at Michonne and said, “I am still so righteously pissed.  But.  I am sorry about mentioning your...I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No.  You shouldn’t have,” Michonne agreed quietly.

“But that doesn’t mean it was okay for you to take up with a married man who had a son at home.”

“You’re right,” Michonne said.  “I shouldn’t have.”

“Are you sorry?” Lori asked.

Michonne frowned.  “Is that why you came here?”

“I don’t think an apology would hurt.  I deserve one.”

Michonne took a deep breath.  “That’s between you and Rick  That’s all I have to say about it.”

Lori clenched her fist on the strap of her purse.  “Fine.  May I use your bathroom?”

“Are you leaving afterward?”

“Sure” Lori said, the word sliding out easily.

Mchonne sighed.  “Down the hall, on your left.”  Lori watched her walk away, sure the woman was going to put all the toothbrushes in the toilet or something. She rolled her eyes as the sound of knocking on her door.  “Oh my god, what now?”  She flung the door open and saw--

Mike.

“Michonne.”

She gripped the doorjamb, nails digging into the wood, wondering if this day could get any worse.


	36. Listening to Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy ref! Can you find it? Anyway, things get messy...

 

 

  


 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Lori stared at herself in the mirror, fussing with her hair, adjusting her shirt.  She could see why Rick was attracted to her—Michonne was walking around in shorts and one of Rick’s shirts and somehow looked effortlessly stunning, with her stupid, pregnancy glow. 

God, how she hated her.

Lori looked into her purse at the little Ziplock bag with white powder. She hated Michonne, but this? Philip was wrong.  She didn’t want Rick in jail, or Michonne.  Teeth clenched, she emptied it into toilet.

She couldn’t do that; Lori just couldn’t.

“I still hate that bitch,” she muttered to herself, flushing the contents and the bag away.

. . . . . .

Rick held his phone up toward the sky—still no bars.  “Is it gonna be like this all weekend?” he asked Abraham.

“Think you can help us out first?” Abraham said, as he, Noah and Carl set the tent up in the clearing.

Rick sighed heavily, shaking his head.  “Yeah. I’m coming.  I just…”

“Wanted to check on her?” Abraham said with a smirk.  “You’ve only been gone what, six hours?”

“I don’t like being cut off, is all.  Gotta have a signal.”

Abraham stood, pointing down the hill.  “When we go into town tonight for dinner, you’ll have your signal.”

“Dinner?” Rick asked.

“Dad and I always have our first meal at Theodore’s,” Noah said.  “They have the best burgers and caramel cake.”

“Tomorrow’s dinner will be the fish we catch,” Abraham added.  “We can grill for lunch.  But breakfast will be at the diner, too.”

“So you mostly come out here to sleep then?” Carl asked.  “Is this just a way to not pay for a hotel?”

Abraham looked at each other before looking at Carl.  

“Pretty much.”

“Yeah,” they said in unison.

Rick smiled, going over to the tent to help.

“Besides,” Abraham said, “the stars come out at night.  Wouldn’t want to miss it.”

. . . . . .

“Leave,” Michonne said, closing the door.  She jumped back in surprise when Mike forced the door open with his open palm, making it slam against the wall behind it.

“I think we’re overdue for a chat,” he said, face set.

“How did you find out where I lived?” she asked, suspicious.

Mike sniffed.  “Wasn’t hard. We live in the age of technology, Michonne.  Do you take me for a fool?”

Michonne shook her head.  “You don’t wanna know what I take you for, Mike.  Seriously.  Leave,” she said, her voice low.

“Or what?” he asked, advancing on her.

Michonne stared at him, eyes unblinking, trying to figure out what it was he wanted.

“Just tell me why you’re here,” she demanded.  

“Terry gave me your message.  After all this time, you’re just as cold as ever.”

“Why shouldn’t I be?  What do you think I could possibly discuss with you, Mike?  Huh?”

“We loved each other, once,” he said quietly.

“That died with our son,” Michonne said.  “You have no right to be here.”

“Sorry—it’s not as easy for _some_ of us to just move on and forget.”

“I will _never_ forget, and moving on was _not_ easy.”

“You shut me out, Michonne.”

“We died with our little boy, Mike.  When he gave his last breath, that was the end of us, right there.  There’s no going back from that,” Michonne said fiercely.

Mike stared at her, baffled.  “Is that all we had?  Him?”

Michonne just stared at him, willing him to leave.

“You wouldn’t even talk to me.”

“Why would I?  Our son didn’t fall down the stairs or get hit by a car or die of cancer—it could have been prevented.  You  _let_  him die.  I think about him every day.  It’s all I can do—think about him.”

“Oh really?” Mike asked, putting his hand into his coat pocket.  Michonne’s eyes widened when he pulled out a snub nose revolver.  “Are you thinking about him now?”

Michonne froze, panicked, frightened.

“I’m ready to go now.”

Michonne turned at Lori’s voice.  Mike was still behind her, but she was blocking his gun from view.  “Lori,” she said, her voice unnaturally high. She swallowed.  “It was good to see you,” she said slow, measured. 

“Who is this?” Mike asked.

“An old friend,” Michonne said.

Lori rolled her eyes.  “That is a gross, over-estimation.  My god, Michonne—”

“We had a little spat before you came, Mike,” Michonne explained, cutting Lori off.  “But we’ll work things out later, I’m sure.  She’s leaving, now.”  Michonne turned to Mike, who had managed to put his gun behind his back.  “She’s leaving,” Michonne stressed, conveying to him to let her go.

Lori stared at the two of them, confused.  “Are you…are you seeing someone else?”  Lori laughed.  “Oh, this is rich.”

Michonne shook her head. “It’s not like—”

“You’re seeing someone else?” Mike asked.  He laughed mockingly.  “Hard to move on, huh?”

“Yeah,” Lori said, indignant. “She moved right on to _my_ husband.”

“Lori, get out of here,” Michonne said from between her teeth.  She looked at Mike and could see he was getting more agitated.  “It’s okay,” she said to him.  “She’s going. Okay?”

“She’s sleeping with your husband, huh?” Mike asked Lori, ignoring Michonne.

“Worse.  She got pregnant by him.”

That did it.  Mike whipped the gun out, startling the living hell out of Lori as he pointed it at Michonne.  “You couldn’t come to me, but you go to some married man?  Is that how it is, Michonne?  Is _that_ how it is, now?” he yelled.

“Oh my god,” Lori cried, hands at her mouth.

Michonne’s brow furrowed as she looked past Mike at the framed photo of her and Rick.  He was carrying her on his back, at the beach, the water wetting his cuffed jeans. Maggie had taken the photo.  Two weeks ago.  Mike glanced behind him and stared for a moment.  He looked at her.

“That Sheriff?   _Him_?”  Mike couldn’t believe it.

“Let her leave, Mike,” Michonne said, her voice resigned.  “Let her go.”  She looked at Lori, who stared back at her in terror.  Then Lori looked at Mike.

“Whatever you’re thinking…don’t,” Lori said, voice trembling.  “There’s only one way out of this, and that’s for you to go.”

“I’m not leaving this apartment, and neither is she,” he said, pointing the gun at Michonne.

Hot tears streamed down Lori’s face.  “But…she’s pregnant.  Please,” she pleaded.

Michonne’s eyes widened at that.  She pulled Lori into a hug and whispered, “Give Rick my love.  Tell him I’m sorry,” she cried.  Using herself to stand between Lori and Mike, she walked Lori to the door.  “She’s going, _now_ ,” she said to Mike, shoving Lori out the door, closing it.

“Why’d you let her go?” Mike asked.

“She has a son,” Michonne said, wiping at her face, palm flat on the door as she leaned against it.  “She has a son.”

. . . . . .

Lori fled down the hall, digging in her purse, fishing for her phone. She wanted to be as far away from there as humanly possible, in case that Mike changed his mind about her being able to leave.  

“Shit!” she cursed to herself as she fumbled around in her seemingly endless bag with one hand, jamming her finger at the elevator button with the other. She stepped inside once the doors finally opened, staring worried down the hallway, waiting for Mike to emerge as the doors slowly closed.  He didn’t.

She found her keys while in the parking lot, got in, and sped off, leaving tire tracks behind her.  She finally found her phone as she drove one handed.  She called Rick, cursed at herself when he didn’t answer, then cursed some more when she realized she needed to call the police first.  The phone rang two times before Shane picked up his direct line.

 _“Stoney Creek Police Department_.”

“Shane!” Lori exclaimed, breathless.  “It’s Michonne.  You have to—”

Lori dropped the phone as she slammed on the breaks, skidding the car out of control as she attempted to dodge a deer.  She screamed as the car careened off the road down a ditch, slamming into a tree.

 _“Hello?  Lori? LORI!”_ Shane yelled.

But all was quiet.

. . . . . .

 “There’s no fixing this,” Mike said more to himself than her.  “I can’t go back.”  He looked at her, raising the gun eye level.  Michonne took a step back.

“You don’t have to do this,” she said, voice trembling.  “We can’t go back, but…you can start over.  Move.  Start a whole new life.”

“ _You_ were my life, Michonne.  And our son is gone, dead, and you…You’ve moved on.  Having a whole new family, aren’t you?”

Michonne involuntarily placed her hands over her rounded belly.  “Please.  Don’t do this,” she whispered, tears rolling down the bridge of her nose.

“It’s already done,” he said his voice eerily quiet.  “You said it yourself.  We died with him, right?”

“Mike!”

The loud pop rang out as blood splattered onto the white walls, covering the smiling faces of Rick and Michonne.


	37. Joy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What was, and what could be...

 

 

 

  


 

* * *

 

There’s breath—  
Quick pants born from shock  
As the blood begins to pool.    
It’s everywhere, clinging in the air to the point  
Where you can taste it.    
Surrounded in red.    
Surrounded in red…

. . . . . . 

 

_**Two Weeks Earlier** _

 

_“You’re looking quite scruffy,” Maggie commented.   She and Rick were sitting on a couple of bleach blankets under an umbrella, the baby on her shoulder.  Michonne and Glenn were walking along the water, quietly talking._

_Rick shrugged.  “It’s the weekend.  Besides, Michonne likes it._

_Maggie frowned.  “I thought she preferred clean shaven.”_

_Rick nodded.  “Oh, she does.  But scruff can have its advantages,” Rick said, recalling how Michonne would moan whenever his stubble attacked the sensitive flesh of her neck—her spot—heightening the nibbling of his teeth._

_“Hmm.  You know, they made out once,” Maggie said casually._

_Rick turned and looked at Maggie in confusion. “What?”_

_Maggie smiled, getting a bottle out of the cooler. “Seventh grade.  Spin the bottle.  Glenn told me.  We all grew up together, but Michonne and Glenn were a grade ahead of me and Sasha.”_

_“Ah.  Grade school romance, then?”_

_“No, just grade school fun, I guess.  They’ve been best friends for a long time. Michonne said it was mostly weird. I’m glad it was.”_

_Rick nodded.  “When did you and Glenn get together?”_

_“Off and on through high school.  And college. Mostly on, though.  I knew the day I saw him there wasn’t anyone else, and I was right.”  Maggie looked at him.  “Know the feeling?”_

_Rick smiled.  “Yeah.  I know it well.”_

_The baby began to fuss, and Maggie placed the bottle to her lips._

_“Let me,” Rick said, reaching his hands out. Maggie handed Josie over, along with the bottle.  “Been awhile since I held one of these,” Rick mused._

_“In about five more months, you’ll have your own bundle,” Maggie said._

_“I’m ready,” Rick said, staring down at the baby, wondering what his would look like.  Silently he hoped it was a girl with Michonne’s eyes.  “A few bundles, if she’ll let me.”_

_Maggie playfully shoved his shoulder.  “Rick Grimes, you sly dog.”_

_Rick chuckled.  “I can’t wait.”_

_. . . . . ._

_“You and Sasha still not talking?” Glenn asked, pausing as the waves of water washed over his bare feet.  Michonne sighed, looking towards the horizon._

_“No,” she said simply._

_“It’s been two weeks.  You guys are like children with this silent treatment crap,” Glenn said._

_“It’s not me who’s acting like a child…”_

_“Yeah,” Glenn agreed.  “Sasha can be…stubborn.”_

_“Understatement of the decade.”_

_“How are you and Rick?” he asked._

_Michonne smiled slowly, warmly.  She looked at Glenn.  “Wonderful.  Seems like a dream, almost.”  She looked over to where Rick and Maggie were sitting, watching as he fed Josie with ease and care.  Michonne downright beamed at the sight, knowing without doubt what an amazing father to their child he would be.  “He’s a good man, Glenn.  I used to be afraid.  Wondering if this was the right thing, or…But I look at him, and it’s as if I’ve always known him.  I_ know _him. He’s it.  If the world stopped tomorrow, I’m glad I got to feel this feeling.”_

_Glenn smiled at her, tapping her arm.  “Come on.  Been waiting to eat some of those chocolate covered strawberries you brought.”_

_. . . . . ._

_“The milk chocolate, or the white chocolate?” Michonne asked Rick._

_“Milk,” he said.  Michonne grabbed one of the milk chocolate covered strawberries from the box, and held it to his mouth.  The way he bit into it was downright suggestive._

_“Damn, Rick.  You keep doing that, we’re gonna have to put you to work on a corner,” Maggie joked._

_Glenn rolled his eyes.  “Can we attempt to keep this PG-13?  There is a kid, here.”_

_Michonne smirked, then kissed Rick.  He grabbed a white chocolate strawberry, then held it to her mouth.  “She’s too young to get the joke.  She’ll be okay,” she said, biting into Rick’s offering._

_Glenn frowned.  “I feel like I walked in on something.  God, is that what we were like?” he asked Maggie._

_“The honeymoon phase.  Let them enjoy it.  For one day, it’ll be a memory,” Maggie said._

_Glenn shrugged. “I dunno.  It makes a comeback.  Harder with a baby, but…”_

_Michonne looked at both of them, her eyes knowing. “Trust me when I say that Rick and I will find a way.”_

_. . . . . ._

_Michonne and Rick held hands as he drove back to town to Carol's house. She leaned back against the seat, staring at him quietly. He kept his eyes on the road, but smiled, knowing she was looking._

_"What?" he asked._

_“Nothing.  Just…you,” she said, letting his hand go, moving it to his jean-clad thigh, letting it travel; letting it wander._

_Rick swallowed.  “…just me, what?” he asked quietly._

_With feather-light pressure, she touched his crotch, pressing more firmly with each passing stroke._

_“Pull over,” she demanded._

_“Someone might see,” he marginally protested._

_Michonne smirked, unzipping his pants.  “They won’t see me,” she said coyly._

_“You don’t have to—”_

_“I know,” she said, scooting down low.  “Now shut up,” she said, her voice flirtatious._

_Rick obeyed, letting Michonne take him wherever she wanted to go._

_. . . . . ._

_“So glad you two could make it,” Carol greeted, giving them both a hug and a kiss.  “Come on in.”_

_Carol led them to the dining room where the table was set, with Morgan, Sophia and Duane already seated._

_“Hey, Morgan.  Hey niece and nephew,” Rick said with a grin.  Sophia and Duane both got up, giving him a hug.  “Jesus, Duane, what are you eating at U of I?  I swear you’ve grown more since I last saw you,” Rick said._

_“I don’t know, but I only grew one inch, Unc,” Duane said with a grin._

_“You keeping an eye on him out there, Sophia?” Rick asked._

_“Of course.  Someone’s gotta, right?”  Sophia looked at Michonne, waiting._

_“Damn, my manners.  You two haven’t met Michonne yet.”_

_“So_ you’re _my new aunt,” Sophia said with a smile._

_“Sophia, don’t be sassy,” Morgan chastised._

_She frowned at him in confusion._

_“I was serious.”_

_“We’re together, yes,” Rick said.  “You can just call her Michonne.”  He looked at her for confirmation.  She nodded._

_“Nice to meet you—both of you,” Michonne said, sticking her hand out for them to shake._

_“Uncle Rick’s got taste.  Good job,” Duane said to Rick with a wink._

_“She’s more than just her looks,” Rick said, while Michonne blushed._

_“Of course she is,” Carol said.  “My brother always had taste, but it appears he now has sense,” Carol said with a smirk._

_. . . . . ._

_Dinner went well—conversation was amicable, and everyone adored Michonne.  Though Rick wasn’t surprised.  As they sat side by side at the dinner table, eating Carol’s homemade pumpkin pie and vanilla ice cream, Rick took her hand underneath the table, interlacing their fingers.  He looked over at her, and she looked back._

_‘We’ll have this, too,’ his eyes said._

_She smiled at him.  ‘I know.  I can’t wait.’_


	38. Sorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When it all bursts at the seams...

A/N: Okay so like...I’m gonna need y’all to bear with me on this and see it through to the end.  I wrote this while the “Schindler’s List” soundtrack played in the background [and a little Radiohead], but...Just take my hand and jump with me, okay?  Please drop a review no matter how you feel.  Thank you.

  


 

Rows of houses, all bearing down on me  
I can feel their blue hands touching me  
All these things into position  
All these things we'll one day swallow whole  
And fade out again and fade out…  
Cracked eggs, dead birds  
Scream as they fight for life  
I can feel death, can see its beady eyes  
All these things into position  
All these things we'll one day swallow whole  
And fade out again and fade out again  
Immerse your soul in love…

\- Radiohead, "Street Spirit (Fade Out)" 

. . . . . .

She was so still.

Mike stared at her for a long while.  He wasn’t sure how long, but it felt like an eternity.  He hadn’t meant to do that; that hadn’t been the plan.  He wasn’t sure himself what the plan had been—just to make her listen; to make her understand—but seeing for himself how she had moved on without him, carrying another man’s child…His vision had begun to blur.  He remembered pulling the trigger, but it was as if he was watching it all play out.  He wouldn’t do this, would he?

But he had.

He cried as he stared at her, unmoving.  So incredibly still.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

He put the cooling muzzle into his own mouth, and pulled the trigger one last time.

. . . . . . .

“We got reports of shots being fired,” Tyrese said, hanging up the cell phone.

Shane clenched his fists, willing the elevator to go faster. Then he pulled out his gun, ready.  “We go in cautiously, Ty. This just went from a cursory glance to a possible situation.”  Still, Shane hoped like hell it wasn’t.

He and Tyrese approached Michonne’s door, Shane on the right and Tyrese on the left.  Shane gave a few quick raps on the door.

“Michonne!  You in there?” he yelled.

It was silent.

Quietly, Shane motioned to Tyrese to cover him as Shane stood in front of the door, raised his foot slowly, then kicked it open.  The door shot open, then bounced back, as it hit someone’s feet on the floor.  Shane placed his hand on the door, stilling it, then pushed it back open slowly.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself, stepping over Mike’s body, only to gasp when he saw Michonne behind the door, laid out.  “No, no, NO!” he yelled, dropping to his knees, checking her.  “Get a bus, Ty!  Call a bus right now!”  Shane dropped his gun and felt for a pulse.  “Stay with me, okay? It’ll be okay,” he muttered.  He took off his jacket, folding it, and put it on his knees.  Gently, he maneuvered her so she was sitting up a bit so that she wouldn’t choke.  “She’s still breathing.  You get that goddamn bus here, you hear me?” he said, his voice strained.

“On it.  Should I get two?” Tyrese asked.

“Hey, fuck that guy!  He swallowed a bullet.  Let him rot,” Shane muttered.  Shane only had one priority, and that was to save Michonne.

. . . . . .

After accepting he wouldn’t have a signal, Rick turned his phone off, enjoying the outdoor activities with the guys.  Later that evening when they made it to town, sitting down at a booth in Theodore’s, perusing the menu, their homemade salt and vinegar kettle chips catching his eye.  He smiled, remembering how badly Michonne had been craving them, and not having a brand that tasted quite right.  He decided that before they headed back, he’d buy a couple of bags.  He pulled out his cell, turning it on.

“Well hell, you almost made it five minutes,” Abe said with a grin.

“More like three,” Noah joked.

“Yeah, yeah, yuck it up,” Rick said while smiling, though his eyes never left his phone, waiting for it to be totally on so that he could call her.

“Dad, can I call mom when you’re done?” Carl asked.

“Of course, son,” Rick said over the beep alert, letting him know he had a voicemail.  He hit the icon, listening as the waitress set down glasses and a jug of water on the table.

_You have five new messages.  New message._

_"Rick, hey.  I take it you guys made it down safely.  I miss you already.  Talk soon."_

Rick smiled at hearing Michonne's voice, but continued to listen the voicemails.

"Hey, she called me," he said to the table.  "Looks like I'm not the only one anxious to get to the phone."

_New message._

_"Rick, it's Shane.  Call me back, man."_

_New message._

_"Rick, seriously, I need you to call me right now."_

Rick frowned as the messages continued.

_New message._

_"Rick, I--"_

Rick hung up the phone, feeling anxious, calling Shane back right away.  He drummed his fingers on the table top as he waited.

_"Rick, where you been, man?"_

"Sorry, I didn't have a signal.  Still out on this camping trip.  What's wrong?"

_"Shit, forgot about that.  Brother, I just need you to get back now.  Right away."_

"What happened?"

_"Rick, please, don't argue, okay?"_

Rick put his finger up to the group, getting out of the booth, walking away.  "Shane, what the hell is going on?  I'm three hours away with Carl.  What is going on?"

Shane sighed heavily into the receiver.   _"She was shot, Rick.  Michonne.  Her ex showed up and...I..please, man.  I just need you to get here.  Rick?  You there, man?  Rick?"_

Rick slowly lowered his hand, trying to process what Shane had said.  Quickly he strode back over to the table.

"We have to leave."

"Dad, our food isn't even--"

"Michonne's been shot.  I have to get back."  The color had drained from Rick's face, and he was staring off at something that wasn't there.

But before he could finish his sentence, Abraham was up.  Seeing Rick wasn't quite there, he grabbed Rick's arm, motioning with his head for the boys to follow.  "Do we know who?" he asked Rick as he escorted him outside.  Rick shook his head.  Abraham took a deep breath.  "Look, we don't know what the situation is, what we're walking into.  But I'm gonna need you to hold it together, you hear me?"  

Rick finally turned his eyes to Abraham, and nodded.

"Good.  Let's burn some asphalt and get there.  Good thing you're a Sheriff, 'cause I ain't stopping."

"Good," Rick muttered, climbing into the passenger seat.  "Good."

. . . . . .

Daryl rolled over in bed, grabbing his cell form his nightstand.  He looked at his phone--five texts from Shane.

“Another woman?” Beth joked from the other side.

Daryl scoffed.  “Nope.  Just a pansy,” Daryl joked.  He sat up when he started to read the texts.  “Shit.  Gotta go.”

“What is it?” she asked, concern laced in her voice.

Daryl stared at her, considering, then, “You should probably come, too.  It’s Michonne.”

. . . . . .

Rick thought he was going slowly insane during the drive back.  It felt endless.  Still, somehow Abraham managed to get them there in just over ninety minutes.  Rick was out the car before Abraham could even turn into the parking lot, bolting through the revolving door, down hall, bee-lining for the ER.  He paused looking around, and the first person he saw was--

Sasha.

Face tear stained, she stumbled over to him, throwing her arms around him, sobbing. Rick stood there in shock, afraid of what she was going to say.

"She's my sister and I pushed her away.  I pushed her away..."

Rick held her, but he wasn’t really there.  The buzzing noise he’d been hearing since he spoke to Shane began to grow louder.

“Where...where is she?” he quietly asked.

“Hey, man.”

Rick turned his head to look at Shane, who pulled him out of his embrace with Sasha to hug Rick himself.  “She’s in surgery, man.  She’s been in surgery.  They’re doing everything they can.”

Rick nodded dumbly.  “She was shot?”

“That son of a bitch shot her in the head,” Sasha cried.  “Son of a bitch.”  She turned, wiping at her face.

Rick turned cold eyes to Shane.  “Where is he?”

Shane looked at him, sorry to say it; sorry to deny Rick vengeance.  “He killed himself, man. And...Lori was there.”

Rick’s eyes narrowed.  “What?  What are you--”

“I don’t know why, just...she left Michonne’s apartment, tried to call me about the situation.  Then she crashed her car.  She’s in surgery, too.”

Rick slowly sat down on the floor, holding his knees as he stared blankly, trapped between reality and disbelief.

“Carl’s...have to tell Carl.”

“Tell me what?” Carl asked, approaching his dad.  Abraham and Noah went over to Sasha, embracing her in a group hug.

Rick just sat quietly, staring.

“Your mom was in an accident, Carl,” Shane said, a heavy hand on the boy’s shoulder.

Carl stared at him, confused, tears welling in his eyes.  “What do you mean, my mom was...what are you saying?  Shane?”

Rick dropped his head as the buzzing grew louder, drowning everything else out.

 


	39. Mothers

A/N: First, thanks to those who are actually hanging in there!  I got a lot of similar comments, so just wanted to address a few:

\- I am not punishing Rick and Michonne for the affair.  I did this AU because, given all they suffered and continue to suffer in canon, I wondered how that would come about/translate in an AU if there was no ZA.  And this fic is a drama, so I have to deliver.  Well, my Muse, anyway.  I just write what my taskmaster tells me :p  I only have had loose ideas, then just see where these characters take me.  It’s been a ride.

\- Beth is not a teenager in this fic (and the actress is in her mid-twenties).  I gave shot outs to Bethyl’s and Caryler’s in this fic, but didn’t dwell on either.  I had her in place for a reason.

\- Jumping from Lori’s car wreck to her being in surgery--remember, it’s been _hours_ since that event.  Shane will explain about Lori shortly.

\- I can’t really speak to other Richonne fics, as I’ve only read a few. But I know there is a troubling trend in them...I can’t spoil my own shit, you guys, but all I can say is, trust me to do right by these two. I love them just as much as y’all ;)

 _I fall to pieces, I'm falling_  
Fell to pieces and I'm still falling...  
All the years I've tried  
With more to go  
Will the memories die?  
I'm waiting.  
Will I find you?  
Can I find you?  
We're falling down;  
I'm falling...

\- Velvet Revolver “Fall to Pieces”

* * *

 

 

It was bright. Sunny.  Michonne was sitting in her favorite chair--a leather, recliner.  Except it wasn’t in her apartment--it was outside, in the middle of  grassy field.  She squint her eyes, still adjusting to the light, and slowly stood.  She was barefoot, in a summer dress that capped at the knee, a light breeze making it billow.  She paused as her head throbbed, touching it gently.  She looked at her hand, but there was nothing there. Shrugging it off, she continued to walk.

“Play with me!”

Michonne spun around at the voice.  She couldn’t believe what she was seeing-- _who_ she was seeing.  It was Andre, in his favorite Cars shirt and little blue shorts.  He was barefoot too, but all smiles.  Michonne’s knees felt weak.

“Andre,” she whispered.

“Come on, mommy!”  He laughed, then started running in the opposite direction--away from her.

Tears running from the corners of her eyes, she ran after him.

. . . . . .

“We don’t know the details,” Shane said, “only that she was fleeing the apartment.  Called me in a panic before her cell cut out.”

They were all gathered in the waiting room--Shane, Rick, Carl, Noah, Abraham, Sasha, Maggie, Glenn, Daryl, Carol and Hershel.  Shane and Daryl had maneuvered Rick into the waiting room, sitting him down, as he was still in shock.  Carl sat next to him, holding his hand, head drooped low refusing to look at anyone.

“I sent the guys to search for Lori while I checked on Michonne.  Took them about an hour, but, they noticed where the railing was caved in.  Followed the path and found her,” Shane added.  “My guess is she was in the apartment, and either escaped, or was released.  We couldn’t ask her anything--she was unconscious.”  Shane sighed heavily.  “As for Michonne, she’s been in surgery since they brought her here.  They haven’t told us anything else.  I’m sorry,” Shane said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“What if she doesn’t make it?” Sasha asked quietly, more to herself than anyone else, but they all heard.  Including Rick.  His head snapped up at attention, the sentence uttered breaking him out of his stupor.  “What if she--”

“ _No_ ,” Rick said firmly.  Harshly.  “Don’t even put that out there.”

“We have to consider the possibility that--”

“Stop,” Rick said, cutting Sasha off again.  “Think.  Think really hard about what you’re gonna say next.” 

“Rick’s right,” Hershel cut in.  “They got her in there quickly, and they’re still working.  We mustn’t give up hope.”

“I’m not,” Glenn added.  “She’s a fighter.  She’ll make it,” he said with certainty.

“And what about Lori?”

All heads turned to the doorway to see a short, older woman with graying hair neatly kept in a French braid--Lori’s mother, Molly.

Carl got up, walking over the woman, hugging her.  “Hey Grandma,” he whispered.

She hugged him back, but kept her eyes on Rick.  “You look ill, Rick.  Is any of that grief for my daughter?”

“Of course,” he grit out.

“If you weren’t fooling around, none of us would even be in this mess.”

“Okay, let’s all calm down,” Carol said with her most charming smile.

“This is all your fault,” Molly said, pointing at Rick, and ignoring Carol altogether.

“Grandma, that’s not fair,” Carl said.

She looked at Carl, hugging him again.  “I’m sorry, honey.  I’m just so upset,” she said, crying.  “I’m gonna go to the chapel.  Pray a bit.  Wanna come with me, honey?” she asked Carl.

Carl looked back at his dad.  “Maybe later.”

Molly nodded, but was clearly not pleased.

Sasha shook her head, walking to the other side of the room.  Abraham followed, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“What do we do now?” Carl asked.

Rick looked at his son, wanting like hell to reassure him.  Instead he said, “We wait.”

. . . . . . .

“Andre!” Michonne yelled, gaining on him.  The little boy laughed in response, still running.  “Sweetheart, please!” Michonne pleaded.

“Catch me! Catch me!” he called back.

Michonne pushed with all that she had.  She reached out her arms as she gained on him, then swooped him up into her arms when she caught up to him, spinning him around, holding him close, feeling a joy she didn’t think she’d feel again.

“I got you, baby, I got you,” she murmured.  He felt the same; smelled the same.  It was him—her Andre.  Michonne cried tears of joy.  “I won’t let you go.  I won’t leave you.  I won’t leave…”

. . . . . .

At 1:07AM, Dr. Stookey entered the waiting room.  Though it was late, everyone was awake and alert.

“I am the surgeon that worked on Mrs. Grimes,” he said.  “Dr. Anderson is still operating on Ms. Logan,” he said directly to Rick.  He sighed, staring for a moment, then added, “Your wife is suffering internal bleeding.  We can’t stop it.  She’s awake, but, she doesn’t have much time left.”

Rick choked back a sob at that, tears springing to his eyes, while Carl cried loudly, devastated.  He held Carl close, stroking his hair.  “She knows what’s happening, and her mother is in there with her already, but, she wants to see you, and her son.  I’m sorry,” Dr. Stookey said, his tone morose.  “Please, come with me.”

Legs weak, a teary Rick and a sobbing Carl followed the Dr. to where Lori was resting.

Molly was at Lori’s bedside, holding her hand, then looked up sharply as Rick and Carl entered.  Her lips were in a thin, hard line as she stared him down.

“I need to talk to Rick first,” she said, glancing at Carl, whose face crumbled at the sight of her.  “It’s okay, sweetie,” she said, her voice soft.  “I’m not going anywhere.  Not just yet. Okay?”

Carl nodded, wiping at his face.

Molly let Lori go, then walked past Rick, giving him a look that he knew the woman hoped would send him to the farthest pit of hell.

Slowly, Rick approached the bed.  He cupped Lori’s face, gazing down at her.  He bent, kissing her forehead, then leaned his against hers.  She grasped his hand, holding on tight.

“How is she?” she asked.

Rick veered back at that, confused for a second.  “Michonne?” he asked.

Lori nodded.  “She saved me, you know?  I begged him to walk away, and he said he wasn’t leaving.  Michonne hugged me and told me to give you her love, then ushered me to the door, shielding me.  A pregnant woman shielded _me_ to safety.”  Lori shook her head.  “I was so stupid.  I tried to help, but I failed.”

“It’s not your fault,” Rick said quietly.

Lori sobbed. “I'm not ready.  I'm not ready.  Please don't leave me," she begged.

"I won't,” Rick promised, stroking her hair back.  “I won't.  I'm so sorry, Lori."

"I messed it all up.  Everything. I can’t take it back."  She sniffed.  “I love you, Rick.  Carl is the best thing either of us have ever done.  Ever.”

“I know,” Rick agreed.

Lori took a labored breath.  “I need to see him,” she said.

“Just hold on, okay?  Hold on.” Rick ran to the door.  Slowly, Carl entered, as if he were performing a death march.  Rick supposed in a way, he was.

“Come here, sweetie,” Lori said, reaching for him.

Carl, crying quietly now, collapsed against her, holding her tight.  “Mom…mom…” he sobbed.

"You're gonna be such a good man, Carl.  You're wonderful.  I love you."  She stroked his hair, tears rolling down her face, landing onto her pillow.  “I wish I could’ve done more, I wish it…”  Carl was too afraid to look, and just held her tighter. He could feel her slipping away, but he wasn’t ready.  He just wasn’t ready.

Lori took a shuddering breath.  "You…and your dad…”  Her voice was just above a whisper.  “You’ll be okay.  Goodnight, my love..."

Carl pulled back and looked at her.  She was still, her eyes still open.  “Mommy?” Carl asked, staring at her.  Rick walked over, gently brushing her eyes closed.  Carl dropped his head, sobbing out loud.  Rick pulled him to his chest, holding him tightly.

“I’m sorry, son.  I’m so sorry…”

Rick stared at the woman he had shared everything with for half of his life, the mother of his child.  His former love; his wife.  He cried for the loss of her, for what his son had to endure, for all that they had shared between them.  Rick Grimes grieved heavily for the mother of his son.  

He grieved for the loss of Lori Elizabeth Sutton Grimes.


	40. 177

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Read on...

A/N: I feel like a possessed woman writing this...I need to be writing a script, damn it! [That frustration was directed at me, not anyone else] Anyway! Was wondering if anyone would be open to a chat about this fic. I'm pretty sure it's winding down, but...yeah. After all the questions from the last couple of chapters, it was a thought I had. PM me if you've got a question! Unless you think it's lame... And on with the fic!

* * *

Rick held his head in hands, sitting on the waiting room couch, Daryl and Shane on either side of him. Carol had taken Carl and Noah back to her place. Molly had wanted Carl to go with her, but he passed. Sasha sent Noah to stay with him, knowing they both needed rest anyway. Still, Rick was fairly certain that Carl would be hard-pressed to find sleep after this nightmare of a night. Another two hours later, at nearly four in the morning, Dr. Anderson emerged.

"How is she?" Sasha asked, dread tinging her voice.

"The bullet pierced through her skull, and grazed her brain. I know it may not seem like it, but, as far as gunshot wounds to the head goes, she was lucky. Either the shooter had piss poor aim, or he lost his nerve. We had to put a metal plate on her skull, but..."

Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief. Sasha threw her arms around Abe; Shane hugged the hell out of Rick. "She's okay, man, she's okay," he murmured.

Rick turned to the surgeon. "How's...how's the baby?"

"The baby is fine. She didn't fall on anything. My guess is she simply collapsed after the point of contact. Your friend here," he said, motioning to Shane, "helped save her life, keeping her head elevated."

Rick blinked back tears, a smile forming. "So they're okay? Everything's okay?"

Dr. Anderson, tilted his head, wincing. "Mostly. They're in good health, but...she's in a coma."

"For how long?" Maggie asked.

"We don't know," Dr. Anderson said. "That part is up to her."

. . . . . .

_Come back, sweetheart. Please..._

Michonne frowned at the sound, looking around her. She saw nothing. Shrugging it off, she looked at her son. She sat next to Andre on the sandy beach, making sand castles.

"I like this one best," he said, patting the sides of it just so.

"Me too," she said with a smile.

Andre paused, looking up at her, the sunlight beaming down on his face.

"What's wrong, baby?" she asked him.

"Are you gonna come back with me?" he asked her.

Michonne's smile faltered a bit as she rubbed his hair.

"No, honey, she's not."

Michonne looked over her shoulder, having to see the person behind the voice. She couldn't believe it.

"Mama?"

It was her-Jaqueline Prescott Logan-her mother.

Michonne stood, then embraced her.

"Mom..."

Her mother patted her back and stroked her hair. "I know, baby. I know. It's alright."

"I can't believe you're here," Michonne mumbled.

"Hell honey, can't believe _you're_ here." Jackie held her by the shoulders. "What are you doing here, Michonne?"

Michonne frowned, looking around, really taking in the beach that seemed to stretch for miles, and the bright sun. "I don't know. Where are we?"

Her mother sighed. "Walk with me."

"Andre. Come on, sweetheart." The little boy got up, taking his mother's hand, the three of them walking along the shoreline.

_Yes, we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow, and we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go..._

Michonne looked up and around, but didn't see anything. She heard a voice; she knew it. She frowned, wondering if she was now imagining things.

"Michonne, honey...you had a terrible accident. Do you remember?"

Michonne's brow knit together as she thought. "I... I don't..."

"It's okay. Don't worry about it. Do you remember what happened to Andre?"

Michonne looked down at her son, who kept his eyes toward the ocean. Michonne's breath quickened as she remembered.

"He...he..."

Jackie nodded. "Here's not here, sweetheart. You can't stay. Not now. Not for a good, long while. Do you understand?"

Michonne teared up. "But I don't wanna leave. I don't wanna leave him. Not yet. Mommy, not yet," she cried.

Jackie paused, wiping Michonne's tears away. "You don't have to worry about him. He's staying with his grandma, isn't that right, baby?"

Andre nodded, taking his grandmother's hand. "Mommy can't come?" he asked her.

"She'll be back later," his grandmother explained. "It's time for you to go back, Michonne. You've slept long enough."

"Sleep?"

Her mother waved that off. "It'll make sense. I need you to go and take care of our girl."

"Sasha's not speaking to me."

Her mother narrowed her eyes at that. "What did I always tell you girls? You're family. Family sticks together, no matter what."

Michonne nodded.

"Bye-bye time now?" Andre asked.

Michonne looked at him, then picked him up, holding him close. "I love you, baby. Forever and always. You hear me? Forever and always..."

Seeing that Michonne wasn't ending the hug, gently her mother took the boy, holding him with one arm, then touched Michonne's cheek with her free hand. "I'll be seeing you," she said with a smile. Michonne opened her mouth and-

Her body arched off of the mattress as a long, hard gasped escaped her lips. She looked down at herself, seeing all kinds of tubes and pads attached to her. "What?" she rasped. Her throat was scratchy and dry. She looked to the right, seeing a door. "Help..." It came out as a harsh whisper. She coughed, looking for a nurse button, then looked to her left. She paused when she saw him-Rick. His head was tilted back, eyes closed, asleep in the armrest chair next to her bed. An open book was on his stomach- _The Giving Tree_. She stared at him in relief. He looked so tired. His hair was longer than she'd ever seen it, and he had what could only be described as a grizzly man beard. In spite of everything, she chuckled.

"Rick," she whispered. She swallowed, which was a task, her mouth was so dry. Her limbs felt heavy; weighed down. Still, she reached behind her, grabbing a pillow, then threw it at his face. He jerked awake, startled, dropping the book. He looked up at her and froze, mouth parted slightly, eyes wide.

"...Michonne?"

She nodded, relieved.

Rick let out a sob as he went to her, embracing her. She inhaled deeply, having missed his scent, his warmth. His love. "You're awake. You're awake..."

Michonne looked up at him. "Please. Water."

Remembering himself, he hit the call button for the nurse, then grabbed the pitcher and the little, pink cup that went with it. "Sip it slow, now, okay?"

She nodded, doing as he asked. She could manage a few sips before stopping. Still, her throat felt a million times better.

"How do you feel?" he asked, staring at her, marveling at her presence, not fully believing she was awake, talking to him.

"Stiff," she said, stretching as much as she could. She wiggled her legs, but her feet felt numb. "How long was...how long was I out?" she asked.

Rick stared at her, his face worried. He swallowed. "A hundred seventy-seven days yesterday. Uh ... hundred seventy-eight today." He smiled a little. "Except today doesn't count."

Michonne frowned. "Wait...how many?"

Rick rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, a familiar habit she realized she loved. It meant he was thinking or worried. Michonne bet that this time, he was worried.

"It's...it's February, Michonne. You've been in a coma for twenty-five weeks."


	41. Asleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While she was sleeping...

So...yes, I counted the days.  I can’t tell you what day in September I started on, but if you count backwards from February 21st, 2017 (see what I did there?), then you’ll have the exact date she was shot.  My self-imposed hiatus is temporarily over, as I was able to finish that script (thank the heavens), but I have like, eleven more to write, so...I believe I am nearing the end of this fic, but as I didn’t really have a plan, I may make a retraction on that.  It’s all very up in the air. I was going to answer this in a video commentary (and, feel free to send me questions about this fic), but yes, Rick’s comment in the last chapter about how long she was asleep was a total Buffy/Spike ref, the pairing that really kicked off fandom life or me.  Thanks to everyone who has reviewed--you guys are awesome ^_^

* * *

 

_"What are we gonna do?” Sasha asked to no one in particular.  She, Rick, Abraham, Glenn, Maggie and Hershel were all at Michonne’s bedside.  It had been a month since she was shot.  
_

_So much had changed._

_Rick had moved back home for Carl.  Sasha had insisted they have the apartment cleaned and sold, saying that Michonne wouldn’t want to call the place where Mike tried to kill her, and then himself, home.  Rick didn’t argue.  In fact, he debated with himself if he should sell his house, wondering if it was too hard on Carl, and thinking that, when Michonne finally woke up, they would need a place that was theirs; a place free of ghosts..._

_Rick looked down at her--she looked so peaceful.  Beautiful._

_‘Please, wake up,’_ he thought.

_He looked at her belly--she was starting to show.  He placed his hand on top of it, keeping his eyes on Michonne’s face all the while._

_“We’re gonna wait for her to wake up,” he said simply._

_“What if she doesn’t?” Sasha asked.  
_

_Rick turned his head sharply at her.  “She will.”_

_“What about the baby?  What if she doesn’t wake up before...”  
_

_“She will,” Rick said sternly.  
_

_“But what if she doesn’t?” Sasha said, equally stern.  “What about the baby?”  
_

_Rick’s jaw ticked at that.  He hated this woman’s pessimism, but...she had a point.  “If that happens, the baby will come home with me.”_

_“What?” Sasha asked, appalled.  “Why?”  
_

_“Are you simple or something?” Rick said, frustrated beyond belief.  “That’s my baby, okay?”  
_

_“No one’s disputing that,” Hershel said.  It would only make sense, if Michonne doesn’t wake up, that the baby would go with its father.”  
_

_“But I’m her sister.  I’m sure Michonne would want--”  
_

_“What?” Rick interjected.  “For the woman who she wasn’t even on speaking terms with to take her baby away from a loving household?”  
_

_“Who said we weren’t speaking? And who said my house wasn’t loving?”  
_

_“Sasha, you are a bitter and angry woman--”_

_“Hey,” Abraham interjected, standing straighter._

_“I stand by what I said,” Rick said to him.  “You’re a woman who punished her sister, for what?  Because she dared to love me?”  Rick scoffed.  “You are not breaking us up, okay?  You aren’t pulling any plugs, and you aren’t taking our baby.  I need you to understand that,” he said, voice low.  
_

_“I don’t think that’s what Sasha meant.  No one’s trying to take anything,” Glenn said.  “But we can help.  All of us.  You don’t have to raise this baby alone.  If we can all agree on one thing, it’s that Michonne would want all of us involved.  But since Rick is here, able and capable, it would only make sense for the baby to go home with him.  Right, Sasha?”  
_

_Sasha crossed her arms, rolled her eyes, and looked away.  “Sure,” she muttered._

_“Good,” Rick said.  “Glad that’s settled then.”  
_

_. . . . . ._

_Rick stood by Michonne’s bed, staring at her.  “Thanksgiving was terrible.  I thought we’d be spending it together.  Instead, I don’t have you.  Carl doesn’t have Lori...it’s just so rough, Michonne.  
_

_“He told me I was smothering him.  I haven’t gone back to work, so maybe I was, but...he told me I won, that I had him all to myself, now.  I know he didn’t mean that.  He didn’t...  I’m not doing this right, any of it.  I just don’t know what to do.  I don’t know.”  Rick exhaled, staring at her, willing her to respond._

_. . . . .  ._

_“It’s Christmas.  At first I didn’t want to know, but, Michonne...we’re having a little girl.  We’re having a little girl. I hate to say it, but, your sister...she’s such a bitch, you know?  She wanted to name her. Said she had the perfect name.  No clue how that’s possible, since you didn’t know the sex and hadn’t discussed names with anyone, but I guess Sasha’s a psychic now.  Carl told me that you said he could help.  I’m still hoping you wake up and you can choose her name yourself.”  He looked out the window, thinking--praying.  Despite everything, he smiled a little to himself.  “I’m excited--always wanted a little girl.”  
_

_. . . . . ._

_“I can’t believe January is over.  Can’t believe...Michonne.  Come back, sweetheart.  Please.  Open your eyes for me.  This--this has gone on long enough, okay?_ Too _long.  This has...”_

_He turned away, biting his fist and shutting his eyes dialing back his misplaced anger.  He went back to her bedside and took her hand.  He kissed it tenderly, held it to his cheek, staring at her all the while, then cried quietly.  
_

_. . . . . ._

_“Michonne, they have to induce labor.  I thought Valentine’s Day would be...  Anyway, Carl and Noah came up with our baby’s name--Judith Noelle Grimes.  Noah thought you’d appreciate the irony of using that as a middle name on Valentine’s Day.  Carl chose Judith.  Name of a favorite teacher of his.  I know it’s not what you would have picked but...Judith Noelle sounds good, I think.  I hope you like it.”  
_

_. . . . . ._

_“Say hello to mommy, sweetheart.”  Rick held his daughter with love and pride, standing at the side of Michonne’s hospital bed.  “Michonne, she’s...she’s an angel.  She has your large eyes.  But a mess of my curly hair.  It was funny--all of the other babies were bald, so they used our Judith as the demonstration baby for washing hair.  She’s nearly perfect.  The only thing she’s missing is her mother.  Will you come back to us, sweetheart?  Will you come back for her?  We need you.”  Rick sighed, looking down into the face of his baby girl.  “I need you,” he whispered.  
_

_. . . . . ._

Rick stared at her as she stared back at him, mouth agape. 

“It’s...it’s what?” she asked.

Rick remained silent, looking her over, not quite believing this was happening.  

_‘She’s here. She’s real.  She’s here...’_

Rick shook himself.  “What do you remember?” he asked.

Michonne squint, trying to think; trying to recall.  “I don’t...”  She paused for a couple of beats, then said, “Lori.”

Rick nodded.  “That’s right.  She was there.  What else do you remember?” he asked, peering at her.  Slowly, he got closer, taking her hand.  She gave it a squeeze.

“I don’t know, I...  I just remember seeing her, somewhere.  At home?” she asked him.

“Yeah,” Rick whispered.  “Is that all you remember?”

Michonne looked around, as if searching for an answer.  Then, “I saw...Andre?  I saw him..and my mother. It felt real, not like a dream, but real...How did I end up in the hospital?”

Rick pat her hand.  “You had an accident.  But you’ll be okay.  You’re okay.”

“Dr. Anderson is on his way,” the nurse informed them.  She began to check Michonne’s vitals in the meantime.

Michonne sat quietly until she realized--

“Wait--where’s my baby?  Rick?”

“It’s okay,” he said quickly, seeing the fear in her eyes, and hearing it in her voice.  “She’s okay.  She’s a week old, now.  Sasha’s watching her while I came to visit you.”

“She?” Michonne asked, a tremble in her voice.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Rick said, his voice swelling with emotion.  “We have a little girl.  Her name is Judith.”


	42. Judith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the newest Grimes is...

Rick sat heavily in the waiting room chair, taking out his cell, pulling up Sasha’s number.  He paused, staring at it, thinking of how much had changed over the last few months, and then he exhaled.  Michonne was back.

His love had come back.

He always knew that she would; he had never stopped believing.  And yet, part of him still felt like he was in some sort of dream.  He wiped at his eyes, then resumed dialing the number.

“Sasha...Hey.  How’s Judith?  He is?  He adores his little sister.  Listen, can you get them ready and come to the hospital?  It’s Michonne.  She’s awake.  Yeah, really.”  Rick smiled, then frowned.  “No, she doesn’t...she doesn’t seem to remember.  Not Mike, not the shooting, any of it.  And I think, maybe we just keep it that way.”

. . . . . .

Sasha looked over at Abraham as they drove down the street.  Carl and Noah were in the back seat, Judith in her car seat between them.  Sasha glanced at Carl in the rear view mirror, watching him smile at his little sister.

It made her smile, too.

She looked over at Abraham, grasping his right hand that rested on the steering wheel.  For the first time in months, she felt like things would be okay.

. . . . . .

“I was in a coma for five months,” Michonne said more to herself than Rick.  She was sitting upright in the hospital bed, staring at Rick who sat on the edge of it, holding her hand between his.  Whenever he was with her now, he had to touch her--make sure she was real.

“How long was it for you?” he asked.

She looked at him.  “I don’t know.  A long time, a short time...I dreamed I was with Andre.”

“Yeah?”

Eyes full of tears but unshed, she admitted, “I didn’t want to leave him, Rick. I had him back, and I didn’t want to leave.”

“It’s okay.  It was just a dream.”

“It felt real, like...I can’t explain it,” she said, shaking her head.

“Did...did you get to say goodbye?” he asked her.

A tear escaped as she smiled, nodding.  “But I’m here, now.”

“Well, that’s good.  There’s someone who’s been waiting to meet you.” Rick pulled out his phone, looking through it.  He handed it to her, showing an album of photos under the name “Judy.”  

A smile bloomed on her face as she looked carefully at each one.  “That’s our girl?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he whispered, kissing her on the cheek.  “Eight pounds, six ounces, and twenty inches and a quarter.”  Wrapping an arm around her, watching her go through the photos, he murmured, “That’s her.”

. . . . . .

Michonne froze as the door opened.  Rick stood, greeting Sasha and the others at the door, taking the delicate bundle wrapped in pink from her.  She watched as Rick kissed the baby’s forehead, saying, “Hello, sweetheart,” in a quite voice.  Her eyes flickered to her sister, taking in her shocked and joyful face, then back to Rick, and their baby.

She heard Sasha call her name, but she couldn’t keep her eyes off of the little, baby girl in Rick’s arms.  He kept his eyes on Judith as he walked over to the bed.

“Mommy can’t wait to see you.”

With care he handed Judith over to Michonne.  Everything else faded away as Michonne held her little girl for the first time.  She took in her full head of curls, her dark, sweeping lashes, and her bright, brown eyes.  Her hands had little, pink mittens to keep her from scratching herself.  Gently Michonne pulled one off, letting her baby wrap her fingers around her index finger.  Michonne smiled, lips quivering as tears cascaded down her cheeks.  She kissed Judith’s forehead.  “Hello, my love.”

. . . . . .

As much as Sasha wanted to just embrace her sister, she escorted the guys out of the room, giving mommy and baby some quiet bonding time.

“It’s like she didn’t even notice we were there,” Noah commented.

“It’s a lot going on,” Sasha explained.  “She woke up and her baby was just...it’s their first time meeting.  We’ll see her in a bit.”

"She’s right,” Rick agreed with a nod.

“Although,” Sasha added. “Before everyone else goes in...I want to talk to her first.”

Rick stared at her for a moment, a small grin on his face.  “S’okay with me.”

. . . . . .

Once Sasha went back into the room, Rick pulled Carl aside.

“We should probably agree on something before Michonne leaves the hospital,” he said.

“What?” Carl asked him.

“I don’t know if it’s fair, bringing her back to...  It’s your mother’s house, Carl.  She chose the paint, the furniture.  We can’t keep it a shrine, but it wouldn’t feel right changing thangs around and being there with...

“Our new and growing family?” Carl supplied.  Due to his father’s look of sadness, he quickly added, “Not that it’s bad.  I get what you mean.  It’d probably be weird for Michonne, too.  Maybe...maybe we all need a new start.  Make a new home together.”

“You’d be okay with that?  Leaving?”

Carl looked down, thinking.  After a moment, he looked back up at his father, sure of his answer.  “I’d be okay.  Yeah.  It’s been weird, ya know?  Without mom.”

“Yeah,” Rick agreed.  “I know.”

“We should move.”

Rick nodded.  “Okay.  Maybe we can stay in the same neighborhood, but...  When we’re all together, we’ll discuss the details.”

. . . . . .

Sasha sat on the edge of the bed, watching Michonne watch Judith with love and awe.

“I made sure your lips weren’t dry.  Moisturized your hands.  Little things...seems like they forget the little things in here.  I didn’t.”  Michonne glanced at Sasha, then looked back down at her baby, still smiling, but not responding.  Sasha continued.  “I asked Rick what would we do if you didn’t wake up.  Did he tell you?”

That caught Michonne’s attention.  “No.  He didn’t.”

Sasha sighed heavily.  “Sometimes, as much as we don’t want it to, the worse happens.  You know that better than anyone.”

“I do,” Michonne admitted quietly.

“I didn’t want to prepare for the worst...but I _needed_  to.  I just wanted to do right by you.”

“I know,” Michonne replied, understanding.

“And, I did I fight him on Judy’s name at first because, I didn’t _trust_ him to name my niece.  As it stands, I’m not fond of the way the name Grimes sounds, but, the boys did a good job.”

Michonne chuckled.

“Judith Noelle Logan has a better ring to it any damn way.  That and...”  Sasha swallowed, averting her eyes.  “I thought that may be the last piece of you I’d ever get.”

Michonne grabbed one of Sasha’s hands.  “Sash,” she said.  “I’m okay.  I’m still here.”

“I know, but...I was so awful to you,” Sasha cried.  

“Yeah, you being a bit of a bitch,” Michonne said with a smile.  “But I forgive you.  You’re my sister.  I love you, Sasha.”

“I love you too, Michonne.  I’m so sorry.”  Sasha hugged Michonne, sincere.  “Rick’s a good guy.  He wouldn’t leave you.  He never stopped believing.”

Michonne looked back at Judith’s little face.  “I know.  It’s why I love him.”


	43. Epilogue

_**A/N:** First, I want to thank my readers, particularly those who took the time to review this.  Thank you, thank you, thank you._

_So, I came at a crossroads with this fic.  As I was going along, I realized I wanted to evolve it into two other things.  Technically, everything I’ve written was part 1, and now I’m going to go and write part 2, but as an original fic [[and parts of that shared privately with my Patreon members](https://www.patreon.com/user?u=2469093)].  Can’t really discuss the other thing I’m doing with it, but I have to say that the inspiration for adaptation came from some brilliant comments.  As I’ve said before, I wrote this flying by the seat of my pants, and debated how this would all end, and while this is a natural ending for it, I still have more parts to tell.  While I didn’t respond to everyone’s comments, I was mos def listening. Thank you for your support :)  _

_Anyway, the end product will be polished and twice as long, and I hope those that do go and check it out will like it just as much as part one.  Still, that being said, this epilogue does not leave you hanging!  It comes at the end of the to be written part 2, concluding the story.  I hope you like it, and, if you’re craving more, well, that’ll be available soonish ;)..._

  


 

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure he’s coming back?” Michonne asked, pulling the curtains back, staring down the street.  Judith climbed onto the couch, peeking out of the window next to her.

Rick glanced at her, trying to wrestle the pacifier out of Logan’s mouth.  The two year old turned his head, pushing his father’s fingers away in protest.  Rick sighed, giving up the fight temporarily.  “He said he’ll be back and he will.  You worry too much,” he responded, though he walked over to the window, standing with her.

Michonne glanced at her boys over her shoulder, then looked back out the window.  “I just want to get pictures of them, is all.  They may run late...may skip stopping by here altogether.”

“You know Carl better than that,” Rick chastised.  “Besides, the last thing he’d do is disappoint you.”

“Can’t believe he’s going to prom,” she murmured, looking down at Judith, who continued to stare out the window.

“Mommy, can I go too?” she asked.

“In about fourteen years,” Rick answered.  “And even then, that may be sketchy.”

“This is Carl’s special day, sweetheart,” Michonne added.  “You’ll have your own one day.”

Judith frowned, but continued to stare out the window, keeping her thoughts to herself.

“There,” Michonne said, her face blooming into a smile.  Carl had just pulled up in his used, but well-kept Passat.  He got out of the car, walked around to the passenger side, and opened up the door for his prom date, Dawn.  Rick sidled up next to Michonne, staring, gently pulling Logan’s busy fingers from his mommy’s recently trimmed locs.

“See Carl, sweetheart?” he said to his son.  The little boy smiled around his pacifier upon seeing his big brother.

Michonne went to the door, then turned, going up the steps.  “Left my camera!” she called out.  Rick went to the door instead, opening it for his son.

“Dawn, good to see you,” he greeted.  “You look lovely.”  The girl was Carl’s height, but taller in heels.  Her long, brown hair was curled in soft tendrils, framing her heart-shaped face, her blue eyes sparkling.

“Thank you, Mr. Grimes.  Is Mrs. Grimes here?” she asked.

“Oh Dawn,” Michonne said from the landing.  “You look lovely.”  Michonne hugged the girl once she reached the bottom of the steps.  “I’m so glad you made time to come here.”

“Told you we would,” Carl remarked.  “I know you wanted to do photos.”  Carl smiled as his little brother reached for him.  He took the boy from his father’s arms, holding him.  “Hey, buddy.  Mind if I borrow that?” Carl asked, motioning for the pacifier.  “It can be my good luck charm for tonight.”

Logan looked at Carl, then his dad, then back at Carl again.  He took the pacifier out, and handed it to his big brother.  “Oh-kay!” he crowed, then began to shimmy around.  Carl placed him on the floor, and Logan immediately began running around the living room, chanting, “Carl! Carl! Carl!”

Rick nodded at Carl.  “Thank you.  Didn’t think he’d ever give that up.”

Carl shrugged, putting the pacifier into his pocket.  “Knew he wouldn’t turn down his favorite person.”

Rick smirked, shaking his head.

“Okay you two, over here by the mantel,” Michonne instructed, untangling the thin, camera strap that had somehow entangled itself around her wedding ring.  Some twenty photos later, including pics with the kids, Carl and Dawn were on their way.  Michonne and Rick stood on the front porch with Judith and Logan, watching as Carl drove off.

“Can’t believe he’s graduating,” Michonne lamented.

“Well, it had to happen sooner or later,” Rick grumbled.  “Besides, we still have some years to go with these two,” he said, swinging a giggly Judith up into his arms.  He kissed her on the cheek and she laughed.

“Your beard tickles, Daddy!” she exclaimed.

Michonne quirked a brow at him.  “You plan on shaving?”

“I’m gonna wait for it to get a bit bigger before committing to that,” Rick replied with a wink.

Michonne smiled, shaking her head, taking Logan into the kitchen. “Time to eat, guys,” she called over her shoulder.

The Grimes family headed into the kitchen, their chatter filling the house, and their love ever apparent.


	44. Part 1 - Additionals

_**A/N: These are some of the additions I’ve been working on for the finished product. :)** _

 

The bustle of the station seeming like a world away. 

Quietly in his office, he sat next to her.  Watching, wondering how he could help.  Slowly, he reached over and took her hand, holding it.  She gave a nod, letting him know it was okay, squeezing back.

”We don’t have to talk, I just...”

”I know,” she said, her voice a breath above a whisper.  “I know.

Michonne tilted her head back towards the ceiling, eyes closed, tears rolling from beneath her lashes.  “I’m stuck in this nightmare and I can’t get out.  I can’t get out.  I just wanna get out of it.  I want to wake up.  Why can’t I wake up?” she asked herself.

Rick stared at her, helpless.  He squeezed her hand, still watching her.  
  
“Why is this happening?  What did I do?”  
  
“It’s not your fault,” he insisted.  “Don’t blame yourself.”  
  
“Who else is there?”  
  
He sighed heavily.  “As much as we want to... We can’t watch things twenty-four seven. We depend on others and sometimes... Sometimes they let us down. You didn’t do anything wrong.”  
  
Michonne opened her eyes, looking up at the ceiling.  “We had dinner plans.  Play date plans.  A dual thing cause we’re all parents.  Glenn and Maggie are my best friends...”  
  
Rick stared at her, knowing that she was somewhat rambling, but listening anyway.  She needed someone to listen, and he was content to be that person for her.  
  
“You were having a date night and a play date?” he asked.

“I bought new cards...in my purse,” she mumbled.  She stared into the distance at nothing in particular, lost in thought.  Slowly, she turned to him.  “What...  What did he look like?”  
  
Rick shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable.  
  
“Ms. Logan--”

“Please.  I didn’t get to see him.  Tell me.  Please,” she pleaded.

Rick sighed, rubbing his eyes, recalling an image he had spent the last few hours trying to forget.  “He was on the bathroom floor--the rug.  On the rug.  A towel was covering him and uh... He was just still, ya know?  Still.  I thought... I could feel his loss from this world. In my head I said a prayer, and after they placed him on the gurney, I closed his eyes.  Didn’t seem right to just--”  Rick wiped at his own eyes, trying to reign it in.

“I didn't know your son, but I saw the love in that house. I could see-- _can see_ \-- how much you love him.”

Michonne stared at him for a moment, then looked down at their clasped hands, bereft.  “Always.”


End file.
